


Salvation

by tambrathegreat



Series: The Slytherin Redemption Series [2]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-07-19
Updated: 2017-05-01
Packaged: 2017-11-10 07:52:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 27
Words: 77,527
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/463935
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tambrathegreat/pseuds/tambrathegreat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After Tish's death, Draco  thought that he would never love a woman again.  Boy was he ever wrong.  Set five years after Penance.</p><p>Story 2 in the Slytherin Redemption series.</p><p>All recognizable characters and places belong to JK Rowling.  I make no profit from this endeavor.  I retain full rights to any and all original characters in this work.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Lucius Malfoy was coldly furious as he viewed his face in the scrap of mirror he had been able to blackmail from the guard that morning. He looked bloody awful. It wasn't just that he had aged. No, in the past ten years in this hellhole, he had become old. His head was shaved once a month, as mandated by prison rules to keep lice and other vermin down in the Azkaban male population. What had once been lustrous blond locks had become grizzled stubble. His face, once described by his lovely, weak-willed wife as angelic, was craggy and care-worn. 

He screamed in outrage, “Fuck!” And then again. “Fuck!” 

He had always been vain. He knew, and freely admitted, that he was the most handsome man he knew. Who else could compete? Snape, Goyle, Crabbe, Nott, or the abomination that was the Dark Lord? He knew he far outstripped their looks, or at least had done, until he saw himself today. He smashed the bit of mirror against the wall, grinding the glass into his palm, enjoying the pain of the cuts. He screamed again, his outrage wordless this time. His fucking weak, useless, blood-traitor son would be here today with his dirty-blooded offspring, and Lucius Malfoy had just discovered he was hideous. 

He smiled as he licked the blood from his hand, the cleanest liquid in his cell by far. At least he could count on Narcissa's devotion to him. There was always that.

&*&*&

Narcissa Malfoy had not changed at all. Azkaban had been kinder to her to her sister all those years ago. She still held court with the other Death Eater wives, she still aspired to the elegance that she could attain in the robes provided for her incarceration, and she still had the serenely supercilious expression she had possessed throughout her life. Yes, life had been good to Narcissa since she no longer had to deal with Lucius' vile temper and evil machinations. She didn't realise, until she had spent months apart from him, how much she hated him. She didn't realise, until years went by, how long that hate had been fostered in her heart. It had lodged there like a malformed, hunched dwarf for so many years. She had seen him, on occasion, as she passed from the women's section to the infirmary, and was thrilled that his self-vaunted looks had decayed. She was happy that his locks were shorn and grey, and that the bags under his eyes were permanent fixtures, not just packed for his trip to Azkaban. It was Lucius' fault she was here, instead of with her much loved, if misguided, son.

She would meet Draco today and her Muggle-spawn grandson. She didn't know how she could bear the shame of her grandson's parentage, but she would for Draco's sake. No matter what he did, or whom he chose to sleep with, he would always be her son. She kept telling herself that Severus Snape and The Dark Lord had both been half-bloods, and they were the most powerful wizards that she had ever known. She just hoped that half-bloodedness didn't mean her grandson would be as unfortunate to look at as either of them had been.

Narcissa dabbed a tear from her eye, not wanting to let the other women know that she had a momentary weakness. Her son would be here soon enough, and free this time, and that was all she cared about.

&*&*&

Draco cautioned his four-year-old son about acting like the good boy that he knew he was while they visited with his grandparents. Draco would brook no argument with his son when it came to his good behaviour, especially under these circumstances. His visit with his father would be first. He knew what to expect there. He had seen Lucius after the death of Tish Cavanaugh, Scorpius' mother. Lucius had been harsh in his judgment of his only son. Draco, with his newfound Catholic faith, had been hard-pressed to practice the forgiveness his religion dictated. He had masterfully masked his anger, and gone to confession after the visit. His penance had been twenty decades of the rosary and two days service in the soup kitchen. Trust Father Ian Cavanaugh to make him return there.

They arrived at the prison by Apparition. Draco wasn't pleased that he had to risk his son's well-being by that mode of travel, but the Floo-network had been shut down due to a security breach at the prison the week before. Scorpius was ecstatic, until they reached the building's grim facade. He grew solemn. “Daddy, is this where Toby is going to go school?”

“No, Little Man, that's in Scotland, at Hogwarts. Not here.” Draco took his son's hand. “Now, the guards, those men there behind the bars, are going to want to run their wands over you and Daddy. Just let them, so we can see the people Daddy is here to see.”

Father and son stood in line, and when it came their turn to be searched, Scorpius manfully bore the tickling blue light of the wand running over his squirmy little body. Draco rewarded him with a pat on the shoulder and a smile. The guards weren't as nice to the father, however. The wand's invasive corona burnt his skin and lingered over the most delicate parts of his body. Draco recognized the brute administering the punishing magic as the one in charge of his release, eleven years earlier. He had hated him then and could find little love for him now. His forbearance with the fool was due to his son's presence.

Once through the area, Draco scooped his son into his arms. “You were such a good boy. I'm going to take you to buy a toy broom tomorrow when we go to Diagon Alley. Would you like that?”

“Yeah!” Scorpius squealed. 

The prison hadn't changed substantially since Draco had left its confines. The visiting area was new, but still marked by antiseptic white walls and paint-flecked grey bars of the rest of the rehabbed fortress. The tables were new. Draco was grateful for them. He had never received a visit while in prison, but when he had seen Lucius last, they had been forced to sit knee to knee. That was entirely too much contact for Draco, especially now, with his son in tow. He was directed to sit at a table in the middle of the room. Three chairs had been provided for them. Other guests fanned out at their designated spots, and Draco watched the far doors as the prisoners were lined up, ready for escort into the room. Lucius was first in line, his hands and legs bound to a chain looped about his midsection. Draco could sense wards around his person as well. 

His father's pale eyes swept him disdainfully as he entered the area. Yes, Draco knew he was a disappointment to him. Yes, he knew Lucius did not approve of his son. Sod him, if Lucius thought he would be allowed to slight Scorpius in his presence. The younger Malfoy stood, drawing Scorpius with him. Both bowed, ever the dutiful heirs. Lucius made a lazy gesture with his hands, bidding them to sit. Draco suppressed a grimace at his father's laconic, good manners. “Father, I thought it time you met your grandson. This is Scorpius Francis Malfoy.”

The little boy squirmed under the scrutiny of the _pater familias_ , while Draco took the opportunity to give his father the same regard. He was alarmed at the age that Azkaban had placed on his father. He remembered him, from his childhood, as being impeccable, masterful and handsome. He wasn't any of those things now, and Draco stifled the urge to look at him with pity. His father's eyes narrowed, as if in anticipation of the emotion crossing his son's face. They sat in uncomfortable silence for several beats of their hearts. Lucius finally recovered his manners. “My grandson, you say? This handsome young man?'

Scorpius, unused to being around the charm of his grandfather, scowled. “I'm not handsome, I'm smart.”

The statement brought a hoot of laughter from Lucius. He laughed until tears stood in his slate-coloured eyes. “Smart you are, young man.”

Lucius' eyes rested on his son's face, and Draco was surprised to see the prideful love in them. “I didn't want to admit it son, but I am pleased with your choices. I've heard of your job with the Ministry. Even though you're working with half-bloods and Mud... Muggle-borns, I hear you've made quite a name for yourself. And your son is everything I could want to continue the family name.” 

Lucius cleared his throat, an old man sound that made Draco suddenly sad to hear it. To cover his momentary weakening, he goaded, “Well, Father, aren't you going to comment on his bloodline?”

Lucius' insincere look of betrayal was almost comical. He brought his hands to his heart; the gesture made clumsy, and a little pitiful, by the drag of the chains at his wrists. “Son, I assure you I no longer hold those sympathies.”

“Oh, you're trying for parole?” Draco asked, a bitter smile flitting around his mouth. “Surely the Ministry can't be that daft?”

Malfoy the Elder's lips tightened almost imperceptibly. He flicked an imaginary piece of fluff off his thin, prison-striped sleeve. “It isn't inconceivable. Especially since my own son, and heir, has made such an amazing reversal. These things do get around the Ministry, as you well know.”

Draco inclined his head, watching his own son as he swung his legs against the chair leg. He thought about telling his father that his change of heart was genuine, but knew that the effort would be wasted. Lucius leaned into his son, his voice low. “Good job, son. I knew forcing you to read _The Prince_ when you were younger would do all of us some good. It was a stroke of genius putting your get in that Muggle.”

Cold fury flooded Draco at the words. He fought the urge to hex the sneering contempt off his father's face. “Is that all you wished to say, Father? Are there no recriminations for my actions?” 

Draco placed his hand on his son's leg, arresting its motion.

“No,” Lucius replied. “I'll leave those to your Mother. She affects them so well.” An alarm sounded. “That's the cue for my exit. Please, let's do this again sometime.”

“Certainly, Father.” Draco stood, bowing. Scorpius launched himself at his grandfather, hugging him around the knees. Lucius' face became stony with unexpressed emotion. He patted the boy on the head, raking his fingers through the soft down at his nape. He turned as the guard assigned to him approached. Draco felt strangely bereft as his father's figure retreated through the bars.

The two then waited for Narcissa to enter. Lucius passed his wife on the way out, his face filled with longing for the woman he had chosen so long ago. Narcissa ignored him. She only had eyes for her son. She was not fettered by the shackles that Lucius had been, and as she neared, she opened her arms and embraced her son. “Draco, you are just as I pictured you.”

She ignored Draco's son. Draco gave a little sigh. This day was going as well as he had expected.

&*&*&

Diagon Alley was crowded with the bustling before-school crowds of late August. No matter how many times Liz had been here with Draco, she could never get used to the place. She had always been put off by the magical world, given that her introduction to it had been so traumatic. In a crowd of wizards and witches, she felt like a nobody. She hated that feeling.

Draco walked a little ahead of her, his eyes on the two Muggle-born boys they escorted on their first trip to the Alley. Her Hogwarts-aged son, Toby, walked resolutely beside her. In the last three years, he had become quite a charming boy, and of course, he looked nothing like her. Some days, lately, she could barely stand to look at him because he reminded her of the week she had spent in hell. She still dreamed of the assaults inflicted by the wizard who had impregnated her. She had only been fifteen and a virgin to boot. Early on in Toby's life, she had been able to overlook the differences in her colouring and his, the curling brown hair, the square jaw, the hazel eyes. He was handsome where she was plain. Now, as the ghost of his father's face became more evident, she had to stop herself from shrinking from his outward shows of affection. She loved her boy; she just couldn't stand to look at him. 

Draco, her best friend of the last four years, had noticed. She reckoned he couldn't help, but he had taken the place of the boy's (hopefully) dead father, and she was grateful. Now, if she could find an equally willing mother for him, one who wouldn't hate his face as much as she apparently did... Shite. She took his hand in hers, and he grimaced. He was getting to be such a grown-up boy now. Even with her mixed feelings, she hated to see him go. He had been the only relationship she had in the last eleven years. 

Draco stopped at the Quidditch shop to get Scorpius the toy broom he had promised. The two children they escorted gabbled excitedly at him, asking questions about which team he preferred and what the best broom was. Liz hung back, letting her son join in the commotion around her boss. She leaned against the outside wall of the shop, suddenly tired from the day's bustling. She closed her eyes, letting the last of the summer sun bathe her face. Someone trod on her toe and she cursed roundly. She opened her eyes to the most beautiful man she had ever seen. He had brown hair that shone with golden highlights in the sun. His face was square, but softened by the bluest eyes she had ever seen. His smile was sweet, almost saintly. “I'm sorry, Madam. I wasn't paying attention...”

Liz's breath caught in her throat, and she had to swallow before she could answer. “I, ah, I'm not married. And I'm sorry for... Well, I'm sorry.”

The man's gaze faltered, then swept up Liz's body, not lasciviously, but definitely interested. She smiled, shyly. “M'name's Longbottom. Neville Longbottom. Let me make my clumsiness up to you, please.”

Draco took that moment to break away from the group of excited boys. He nodded a greeting at Liz's foot-trodder, “Longbottom. Liz, we have to get these young men home soon.”

Liz rolled her eyes, and sank back against the building's hot surface as the man's interested gaze faltered in Draco's presence. The man nodded coolly to Malfoy. “I didn't know you were allowed out alone on Diagon Alley, Malfoy.”

As Liz had seen a hundred times before, her friend gave an odd shift of his shoulders at the insult. His tone was cool as he said, “Liz, are you ready?”

The Longbottom man stared between the two of them for a moment and then nodded at Liz, a polite, non-committal gesture. He strode off, his booted feet ringing on the cobbles. Liz cursed under her breath. It wasn't like Draco had interrupted anything earth-shattering. She just had so few men who were interested in her. Not that Draco would know that she liked men. She still regretted implying she was a lesbian when they first met. It had just seemed easier to stop unwanted attention at the time. She took his offered arm, letting her gaze linger on the retreating back of the only man that had shown any interest in her since she conceived her son.

&*&*&

Draco was back at his modest flat, his son was in bed, and he finally had time to reflect on his week. _His Very Eventful Week._ The phrase sounded like one of the incredibly silly movies that Liz had taken him to see over the course of their friendship. His life was no stuff of movie plots, however. He sighed, and wished for the thousandth time that he hadn't given up drinking when he gave up heroin. Sober is as Sober does.

Lucius had been the scheming bastard he had expected on his visit. Some things never changed. Of course, his father would try to work Draco's situation to his advantage. He had expected that. His mother's response, on the other hand, had been truly enlightening. He had always known the depths of her shallowness. He just hadn't realised how complicit she had actually been in the Malfoy family's downfall. Not that his mother would ever admit it, but he had witnessed her absence of interest in Scorpius. With something akin to crawling disgust, he realised he would never be her son again. Narcissa, herself, had ensured that fact when she had mildly rebuffed Scorpius' advances with her look of distaste. Lucius had at least acknowledged the boy, and had even allowed his grandson to hug him.

&*&*&

Liz prepared her son's trunk for his trip to Hogwarts the next day. She hated herself as she cried over the pants she folded. She hated the hiccoughing sob that tore from her as she laid his freshly pressed shirts atop the pile. Her son was leaving her, and she hated him for that.


	2. Chapter 2

Liz had been to Platform 9 ¾ before, but never with such trepidation as she had today. Toby raced ahead of her, dogging the steps of the two Muggle-borns that had accompanied them the day before. All three boys pushed heavily laden carts. The parents hung back with Liz, who carried her son's owl, taking their clues from her. Drake walked, with his son, ahead of everyone in the party. He made his way to the entrance, a brick column that looked solid, and waited as the Muggle party caught up. He was in a bad mood today, snapping at Liz as they waited for the Muggles to show up in the office. The trip there, on the Underground had been excruciating as Liz was forced to make small talk (never her best) with the parents, whilst Drake scowled out the window, white knuckled, as if London had somehow offended him. 

Liz waited while the four non-magical people went ahead. “What the hell's up, Drake?” 

He scowled at her, his eyes growing stormy as he considered her question. “Nothing. I just need to run some errands after we finish here. Can you take Scorpius with you?” 

“No. You should have enrolled him in play-school like I told you...” Drake's scowl deepened as she mentioned their conversation of less than a month ago. “Shit, all right, I’ll drop it, but you know I'm right. You owe me. And remember, the Ministry report is due next week.” 

He leaned over and kissed her cheek. “Thanks, kid.” 

Liz made a rude noise with her lips and tongue at him, softening her action with a wry smile. He chucked her under the chin, an annoying habit he had developed since they had watched a Bogart marathon on the TV. He probably thought it made him more endearing. 

He bent to his son, and she watched his lithe grace as he hoisted Scorpius into his arms. She hated that she was beginning to notice him. It had been years since she had any interest in the opposite sex, and now her hormones were in overdrive because of her best mate. Her _still in mourning best mate_ , who had lost his first love only four years ago. There was one word for women like Liz and she applied it to herself: Desperate. She knew she wasn't much in the looks department. She had always been too thin and tall, too angular in her face, too overblown with her dress. She couldn’t help that she had been born in the wrong side of London anymore than Drake could help that he was everything she wasn't. 

She had tattooed, pierced, and dyed to cover her insecurities and her past. It had helped when she was younger, but now, as she neared thirty, she just looked like an old bird trying to reclaim her youth. She hated it, but didn't know how to change. She wondered if Scorpius' godmother, Ginny Potter, could help her. She was such a lady, and went to school with Drake, lived in his world; maybe she could pick up tips from her. Not that she wanted to catch Drake's eye, but it would be nice to catch someone's. Maybe that one who had been so interested yesterday... Longfellow or Grossbottom, or whatever. 

She shook her head to clear the cotton wool from her mind. Drake held out his arm to her, drawing her into his familiar embrace. “I know you'll miss him, Liz, but Toby will be back for breaks. Don't think you've lost him.” 

Liz pretended that was what she had been thinking, and answered with a wan smile. They stepped through the brick wall and were greeted by a bustling Wizarding scene. Families milled around young men and women, who alternately squirmed under too much affection, or sulked as friends entered the train. Liz recognized Ginny's mother, father, and the five children they had fostered. The woman made Liz wonder what her own mother would have been like, if life had been a little kinder to her, if her father had stayed. Of course, Drake had told her the Weasley family wasn't well off, like his family had been. Liz always wondered what his life had been like, but he wouldn't really answer many questions about _before_. 

Draco hugged Liz affectionately to him and followed Toby to the platform. Liz's heart lurched as her son manfully wrested his trunk from the carrier. It fell with a loud bang. A young boy, about Toby's age, with purple hair and a sweet smile turned towards the noise. He helped Toby lift it to the pile of trunks that were accumulated at the end of the area. The two boys began talking animatedly as Drake, Scorpius, and Liz approached. An older, dark-haired woman who looked speculatively at Drake came over from the Weasley group. “Teddy, why don't you take your new acquaintance and show him the train?” 

Liz felt her friend's hand clench hers painfully. She darted a look at his usually imperturbable face and noticed it was dead white. His mouth worked as if he had been struck in the gut. The woman, with her heavy-lidded eyes and faded, dark beauty stepped towards them. “I'm your Aunt Andromeda. I'm sure your mother never mentioned me.” 

“Andromeda, of course. Silly of me, really,” he shook himself slightly. “No, Aunt, my mother mentioned you.” 

The woman smirked unpleasantly. “I'm sure she did. The young man who helped your son is your late cousin Nymphadora's child, Teddy Lupin.” 

“He's my god-child. Liz, here, is his mother.” Drake pushed Liz in front of him. “Liz Cowell, may I present you to my Aunt, Andromeda Tonks?” 

“Pleased to meet you,” Liz responded uncertainly, easing Scorpius out of his arms. “Drake, I think we'll see what Toby's up to. It's no good, I'm sure.” 

Liz scuttled away over Drake's protests. She watched the boys as they ran the length of the train for a moment, but turned back to look at the puzzle that was her best friend.

&*&*&

Draco watched his friend's retreat in quiet desperation. His mother had spoken of the woman standing before him in less than stellar terms. His father had never mentioned her. He remembered, now, that Nymphadora had married the werewolf, Lupin. The Dark Lord had told his mother and Aunt Bella, in no uncertain terms, that they were to deal with the indiscretion. Draco had been uncertain, until after the final battle, whether Aunt Bella's or his mother's wand had killed Nymphadora. The Ministry, using _Priori Incantatem_ , had determined that dear Aunt Bellatrix, using Narcissa’s wand, was responsible for the death of her niece. Regardless of who cast the curse, Draco couldn't meet Andromeda's eyes. He said, through strangely stiff lips, “I'm sorry for your loss.”

The older woman smiled sadly. They stood in uncomfortable silence for a moment, until she asked, “So is the younger child yours?” 

“Yes. His name is Scorpius.” Draco looked away for a moment, locating Liz and his son. 

“And his mother? Did you end up with one of those pureblood brood mares your father, no doubt, paraded before you?” Andromeda's face darkened perceptibly at the question. 

“His mother died four years ago.” Draco said. “She was a Muggle. Now, if you'll excuse me, I must attend to my clients.” 

His aunt grabbed him by the sleeve. “So you know what it's like to lose someone you love. I'm sorry for it.” 

“Thank you, Aunt,” Draco paused. “But I must be going.” 

“Draco, I would like to get to know you,” the older woman said, a plaintive note creeping into her tone that reminded him forcefully of his mother. “I've read very good things about you in the _Daily Prophet._ ” 

“I don't believe...” Draco’s eyes strayed to his son who deserved more family than those who could be found in Azkaban. “That would be... acceptable. I would like Scorpius to have some exposure to his extended family.” He drew out his Muggle-style business card. “You can Floo-call me at this address at your convenience.” 

He sketched a polite, if stiff bow and made his escape.

&*&*&

Draco gingerly held a sobbing Liz in his arms as the Hogwarts Express pulled out of the station. He balanced his squirming son in his other arm. He kissed the top of her spiky, processed head. “Shh, sweet. He'll be back before you know it.”

She burrowed her face in his robes, no doubt smearing the black gunk from her eyes on his exposed shirt. He didn't care, much. “I'm sorry, Drake. I know I'm being ridiculous. He's just... so young.” 

She snuffled into the handkerchief that he had given her moments after Toby boarded the train. Scorpius leaned over and patted her head, his lip trembling. “Daddy, why's Auntie Lizzie cryin'?” 

Liz smiled tremulously up at the little boy. “I'm crying because I'm happy that my little boy is growing up. I'm going to miss him, but I'm happy.” 

Scorpius scoffed. “You're silly, Auntie Lizzie.” 

She nodded through a fresh burst of tears. “Yes, I am. Now, Daddy says he has some errands to run. Come with me, and we'll get some ice cream on the way back to the office. Okay?” 

“We is goin' to Dagone Alley? I like Force cue's ice cream.” He reached towards his auntie and flopped into her waiting arms. 

Draco followed behind the pair, not really paying any attention to them. He felt bad about misleading Liz. 

He did have an appointment, but it wasn't one he cared to talk about with her. He had been having very disturbing dreams lately, complete with the type of mess he hadn't had to clean up since he was a teen. His partners in his dreams were as varied as the positions his dream body seemed to wind them in, and he needed release soon or he felt he would go mad. He was going to a Knockturn Alley establishment he had heard of while still a student at Hogwarts. The women were reputed to be clean and discrete. His appointment was just before teatime. He would go to confession Saturday, so that he might take communion with a clear conscience. Tonight, he just hoped he would sleep without the damnable dreams.

&*&*&

Draco made his way to the entrance of Knockturn Alley, his stomach in knots, his breath coming in excruciatingly loud huffs. He had cast a glamour on himself with practiced ease, due to his years of hiding before he had taken the Ministry job. He wended his way past the Dark establishments that had been regular stops for his father during Draco's childhood. _Borgin and Burkes_ was now closed, having been caught up in the anti-Dark Arts fervor after the war. Another, darker shop had replaced it, Draco noted.

Several hags stood outside the establishment looking at some new _grotesquerie_ , no doubt. One turned towards him, with a disinterested cataract-whitened gaze. Hags were very astute at judging true intent, and had been recruited by both sides in the war. The breed had remained maddeningly neutral on the subject. He stepped quickly past. The hag's gaze bore into him as he retreated. The last thing he needed was a rumour of his need, and the temporary solution to it, to be circulated anywhere in polite wizarding society.

Not that a hag’s word was worth much, even today... 

Another turn and a twisted block later, led him to the building that had been described to him by the proprietress of the establishment. He paused outside the door, wiping his sweat-soaked palms against his robes. He felt like a sex-starved fourth-year. He raised his hand to knock on the overly ornate door, and nearly fell off the step, as it swung outward and opened under its own volition. A force, probably some sort of mild compulsion charm, drew him into the house. 

He came to stand in well-appointed drawing room. He had expected to see women in various states of undress seated around the room. Instead, he noticed a large photo album illuminated on a gilded table. He flipped through it idly at first, then more avidly as he became aware of the beauty contained in it. Each woman in the portrait book was as well dressed and poised as any pureblood witch of good family. He looked with some trepidation, fearing he might see one of his old classmates, so great was the illusion the book cast. 

As he perused the volume, he realized pureblood civility was no longer his taste, and was gratified to see, as he turned the page, a more exotic offering. His gaze lingered on a picture of an angular, awkward young woman. She drew him in with the insouciant lift of her brow and the saucy smirk on her too wide lips. He traced the bobbed black hair with his finger, noting the preening of the photo’s movement. He passed her, but none of the other pictures drew him as hers had. He flipped back to it. The woman wasn't really all that attractive, but she had an indefinable presence. 

He jerked his hand away from the photo when he heard a small cough from the foyer. The girl stood before him, dressed in a very abbreviated skirt and a cropped Tee that showed her sinuous body to its best advantage. He felt, rather than saw, her approach. He reacted to her appearance in a deeply visceral way. She took his hand and led him upstairs.

&*&*&

He had said to himself that he wanted some relief from the torturous sexual tension that had been plaguing him since spring. So then, why was he lying with his arm around the nameless woman, still fully clothed, spooning her as if she were a long-time companion, rather than a paid one?

Draco knew he was going mad just like his Aunt Bella. The whore rubbed his arm, the one scarred with the Dark Mark. She pulled his fingers to her lips, kissing them in a satisfyingly unpracticed way. Neither he nor she had spoken to each other. It was just as well. He felt himself stir, but knew he wouldn't act on it. She arched against him as he kissed her neck. She purred as he ran his hand under her shirt, over her smooth belly to the lacy edge of her bra, and back again. His palm made the circuit as his breathing became raspy and harsh with need. She turned to him, her face inches from his, her eyes dilated. He kissed her generous mouth, tasting mint and the musky scent that was uniquely hers, yet wholly unsatisfying to him.

He sat up, looking on the body stretched before him. “I'm sorry, Miss, I think I need to leave.” 

The corner of her eyes crinkled with her smile. “No need to apologise, I've been well compensated.” 

“I suppose you have.” Draco ran a hand over his bound hair. “I just don't want you to think there is a lack in your... person.” 

She stretched sinuously and sat up. “Sometimes what we want isn't what we really need.” 

She stood, her skirt rising, giving him a glimpse of rosy flesh and a Muggle-style thong. “Go home to your wife, and give her what you've given me. It will be more satisfying and less expensive in the long run.” 

She exited the room. Draco followed behind her after a few moments. 

Back on Diagon Alley, he made his way to the Three Broomsticks. Parvati Patil was standing before the door. “Healer Patil.” 

“Malfoy, what brings you here today?” Her tone was as contemptuous as it had been on their last meeting five years ago. The day that he had lost all hope that Tish could be saved from the cancer that finally killed her. He was suddenly overcome with fury at the woman's complacent refusal to see him as anything other than the Dark Mark on his arm. His temper, usually kept even these days by daily prayer and constant vigilance, raged out of control. He pulled the arrogant former Gryffindor to him and kissed her roughly. 

He pushed her away. “Well, that wasn't it, but it will do.” 

He stalked past her. She stopped him with a touch. “I'll get a room, Malfoy. Follow me up in a minute.”

&*&*&

Liz sat outside the small ice cream shop that had replaced the _Pho_ restaurant in Draco's building. Scorpius was pouting because she had limited him to a single scoop and she had not allowed him any toppings. It was nearing the time that Draco should return from whatever his errand was.

She wondered where her boy was now. She knew he was probably still on the train. It would be tomorrow before she would find out into what House he had been sorted. She missed him already, and wasn't looking forward to returning to an empty flat. She should let herself into her friend's flat and make him dinner. That would kill some time before she had to face the emptiness. “Scorpius, finish your ice cream so I can take you home.”

&*&*&

Draco felt dirty. He had used Patil as he had planned to use the whore, and she had enjoyed it. After they had fucked, he had washed himself in the dingy bathroom that lay down the hall from the room she had rented. When he returned, she was still in the bed, looking at him with undisguised lust and contempt. He hated her for that.

She said, in the lazy, bored voice she had affected since her schooldays, “Meet me here next week at the same time. I'll get the same room.” 

He nodded, unwilling to give voice to his assent. He would be there. He needed to punish her, and to a lesser extent, he needed to punish himself. As he exited the room, he heard her say, “Death Eater filth.” 

He didn't give in to the desire to slam the door off its hinges.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading. Please take time to let me know what you think.


	3. Chapter 3

Toby thought he might like his new school. He had already made a new friend on the train ride to Hogwarts. Teddy Lupin, who it seemed, was somehow related to Mrs. Potter and Uncle Drake. Teddy had showed Toby how he could change his appearance at will and Toby had admired how the older boy could make his hair different colours without the stinky dyes his own Mum used. The boys had parted company when the students got off the train. A man that looked like he was at least a half a giant had met the first years. His name was Hagrid, and he had treated all the firsties nicely, even though some had been crying when they disembarked the Express. 

Toby thought that all the people were really nice here, not like the schools at home. When he had been sorted into Slytherin, his housemates had clapped and cheered wildly. His new friend, Teddy, had cheered as loudly as his House had, when he was sorted. He noticed that everyone else at Teddy's table had given the older boy strange looks, but Teddy had proclaimed, loudly enough for the whole Hall to hear, that his grandma had been a Slytherin so he was all right with his new friend being one too. The other children at the Gryffindor table had looked uncomfortable. The Slytherins at his table were not as bad about the House prejudice thing. Only a few strange looks had been cast his way. 

Now, he sat with a plate of his absolute favourite foods in front of him. It was as if his mum had phoned ahead and made sure he would be welcome. The Headmaster, Professor Lepidus, gave a funny speech about what was allowed and not allowed. Toby was a little disappointed that they would not be able to go into the Forbidden Forest. Uncle Drake had told him about his adventures there. He supposed things had changed since his uncle had been a student. 

Teddy smiled and waved at him as soon as the feast concluded. Toby walked the distance between the tables. “So, I'll see you tomorrow?” 

“Sure thing, Tobe.” Teddy's warm eyes flicked to a blonde first year girl who had been placed in Gryffindor, then back at his new friend. “I'll meet you after classes in the library.” 

Toby followed the group of first years out of the Great Hall. A young woman who had told them she was a Slytherin prefect led them. Toby really did not know what to expect, but when he entered the room, the ornate furnishings and old tapestries nearly took his breath away. Uncle Drake had taken him to see an exhibit of ancient Saxon tapestries when he was a kid, and he had thought they were neat, how they had told a story and stuff. The ones on the walls in the Common Room far surpassed the grimy old Saxon ones any day. While Toby was looking around, a new figure slipped into the room. He was around the same age as Uncle Drake, his skin was a pretty chocolate-colour and his eyes were light brown. When he made his way to the centre of the room, Toby saw he walked with a pronounced limp. Under the soft glow of the central chandelier, Toby noticed, where his right sleeve fell away, there was no hand. 

The man peered around the room waiting for the students to become quiet. His gaze was sharp and hooded like a hawk. Each student his eyes fell upon looked down. Finally, his voice sounded. It was soft and raspy, like he had just woken up. The students had to strain forward to hear him. “I am Professor Zabini. I teach Defence Against the Dark Arts. I am also your head of House. While most students, and many adults, will tell you I am a Death Eater, I want to show you that I am not.” 

The Professor flipped the loose robe back on his left arm. His skin was clear and unmarred. Toby had seen the remnants of Uncle Drake's Dark Mark, and he knew it could not be removed, even if it had faded. Toby was convinced, even if none of the other first years seemed to be. 

The man continued. “This House is under a cloud of suspicion and prejudice. I will brook no argument when it comes to the proper behaviour of a Slytherin. We will excel, we will prove to the world that Slytherin House is more than a bastion of Dark Arts and outmoded blood prejudice. A list of forbidden words and acts will be provided for each of you. All students will sign off and return a copy to my office by the end of the week. This will serve as a magically binding contract. If you are found in violation, by word or deed, you will be punished. The punishment will be up to and including expulsion, depending on the severity of the act.” 

Several students shuffled their feet nervously. Some of the students seemed less than keen about the prospect of the list. The soft-spoken wizard continued, “I will post a roster in the common room of older students who have volunteered to mentor any student who needs help in any subject. Please avail yourself of this service. I will also organise each of you into study groups, so that you might attain the excellence that is our House's standard. At the end of each week, we will have a House meeting to air concerns and grievances. You will, at no time, be allowed to show dissension about your Housemates outside this House.” 

Upon saying this, the older man's baleful eye swept the assembled students. Toby seemed to be the only one who could meet the man's eyes. Professor Zabini's crystalline gaze rested on Toby a moment. The boy could not read the expression on the older man's face. Toby looked away, discomfited. The Professor continued, “Due to incidents during last year's term, the Headmaster has deemed that the curfew for all Slytherins will be nine o’clock. Violators will be expelled. There will be no second chance.” 

Toby heard a boy mutter, “No curfew for those damned Gryffindors, of course.” 

Professor Zabini's gaze focused on the offender. “The Gryffindors have their own restrictions, Mr. Marshall. Rest assured that House of rule breakers is under the same scrutiny as we are. Now, if there are no further comments, you are dismissed. Mr. Cowell, Miss Alston and Mr. Alston, please stay behind.”

&*&*&

Draco was expecting to be able to have time to clear his mind before he had to face Liz and Scorpius. His encounter with Patil had shaken him. He knew, no matter what the temptation, he could not meet her next week as he had said he would. He would talk to Ian to clear his mind when he met him for their weekly dinner at the _Laughing Dog_ , a small, out of the way pub close to the church. 

When Draco opened the door to the flat, he heard Liz and Scorpius singing a song from one of the educational shows she insisted the boy watch. Draco closed the door quietly and sneaked down the hall to the bathroom. He needed to wash the sex smell off himself that lingered along with the strong and abrasive perfume that Patil seemed to prefer. His keys dropped from his hand with a loud clashing jingle. Liz came to the door of the small kitchen. A look of shrewd appraisal crossed her features before she said, “Well, I hope your errands were pleasant.” 

Draco felt himself flush. “They were just errands. You know things I had to do.” 

“Next time tell your _thing_ not to mark your neck,” Liz scoffed lightly. “Get cleaned up, dinner's almost ready.” 

As Draco beat a hasty retreat, Liz's distinctive, throaty laugh followed him down the hall. 

Draco joined Liz and his son at the table, his spot covered by a high-necked shirt. Liz darted an amused look at him, but offered no other comment. As the meal progressed, Draco relaxed. They spoke of the unimportant detritus of the day, allowing Scorpius to elaborate on the unfairness of not getting sprinkles on his ice cream. Draco grumbled, “Well, at least you got ice cream, son. If you had acted towards me in that manner, you wouldn't have.” 

Scorpius, cranky from the day's activity, pouted, his lip pushed far past the point of looking cute. Draco's irritation at the boy mounted. “Scorpius Francis, that will be enough.” 

The boy howled spilling the peas he had barely masticated out of his mouth onto the pristine tablecloth. Draco threw down his fork in disgust. The utensil clattered loudly against the stoneware plate, leaving a chip on the pottery in its wake. Using the quietly menacing voice that Draco had heard many times as a child from his father, he uttered, “Go to your room. Now.” 

Scorpius flung himself out of the chair and stomped down the hallway to his room. The door slammed after him. In the silence that followed, Liz looked quizzically at her friend. “Jesus, Drake, I thought getting a leg over was supposed to calm a bloke down.” 

“Oh, leave off, Liz. I've got a bloody headache.” He cradled his head in his hands, acknowledging the ever-present dull pain in his chest centred around his heart. “When does it wear off, Liz? When do I stop feeling the ache for her?” 

Liz's sigh was all the answer she gave as she began clearing the dishes. 

“Thanks for cooking tonight.” After a moment he stood. “I'd better go speak with Scorpius.”

&*&*&

The three children stood in front of the hardened wizard, waiting in expectant dread as he took their measure for a moment. Finally, after fear-weighted moments, he rasped, “Mr. Cowell. What can you tell me of your family?” 

“Sir?” Toby swallowed audibly. “I don't know what you mean.” 

The man flexed the fingers on his hand, as if anticipating a struggle. “Tell me about your family. Do you have parents, siblings?” 

“Oh, yes sir. I have a mum and a grandma,” Toby replied. He wondered what his family had to do with being in school. 

“So you have no other family, boy?” The wizard seemed impatient. “Your father, where is he?” 

Toby's eyes narrowed. He had this happen to him when he was in regular school. The teacher had called his mum names and Toby had sent her flying to the ceiling. He would not put up with it here anymore than he would at the Muggle school. “I think you know, sir.” 

Professor Zabini paused, rubbing a calloused finger across his top lip. His own eyes narrowed. Toby figured he was in for some hell. Finally, the wizard said, “I meant no offence, Mr. Cowell. I am aware that you three went through the Muggle Liaison Office before you came here. There are special circumstances surrounding each of you. So, if you would, do any of you know who your fathers are?” 

The other boy shuffled his feet. “Me Mum said he was a rapist, and that she hated him.” 

The girl, his twin in looks, nodded her head emphatically at the pronouncement. Toby noticed the Professor wince as the boy answered. “And you, Mr. Cowell?” 

“My mum's never talked about him.” Toby felt as if he were missing something vital. “My Uncle Drake said he was a Death Eater, but that made my mum mad, so he never said anything else about him.” 

“Your Uncle Drake? He's your mother's brother?” the man asked his expression blank. 

Toby had stepped in it this time. Uncle Drake had told Toby not to mention his relationship to the boy while he was at Hogwarts. He had said some people would not understand that Uncle Drake had changed. Toby screwed up his mouth, running his lips back and forth over his teeth. Professor Zabini prompted, “Mr. Cowell, I'm awaiting your answer.” 

There was nothing for it but to tell the truth. “Uncle Drake is my mum's friend. He runs the Muggle office thingy. Please don't tell anyone though. Uncle Drake will be awfully angry with me for telling about him.” 

“I believe we can do that, can’t we Mr. Alston, Miss Alston?” Upon their silent assent, the Professor continued, “I won't tell you not to speak of your fathers, but I think it would be in your best interest, each of you, if you didn't advertise what you know of them. The other children won't be kind to you.” 

The older wizard waved them off in dismissal. As Toby turned to leave he heard the older man say, “Mr. Cowell, tell your Uncle that Blaise Zabini wishes him well, the next time you see him. Would you?” 

“Yes, sir.” Toby bowed slightly as he had been taught, then stumped off to bed, his head swirling with everything that had happened that day. He thought he heard a dry chuckle as the Professor left the common room.

&*&*&

Liz went home to her empty apartment. She thought she might get a little dog or a cat so she wouldn’t feel so lonely with Toby gone. She grimaced at the thought of her life spreading before her, a barren plain. She felt so damned old. Tomorrow, she resolved, she would firecall Ginny Potter and see if she could spare a moment to go shopping. 

Liz poured herself a glass of white wine and sat down to watch the TV, or at least pretend to look at it. So, Drake had found a girlfriend. Somehow, the thought made her feel lonelier. She could envision him going out on a date, in all his proper speech and attire. He would make the perfect husband because he worked so hard a being bland and accommodating. Liz knew he had a temper, a bad one. He had said a little about his father and mother; they sounded like right monsters, even if they had doted on him. He told her in his jokingly ironic way, that he had inherited his temper and looks from his dad. He called him Lucius though. Liz had asked him what he had inherited from his mother and he had said madness. Liz had laughed, but had known Drake had meant it. 

Another glass of wine, and Liz decided she should get to bed. The work day would get here at the same time it always did. She walked down the hall to her room, making an effort not to peer into Toby's bedroom to see if he was there. She knew he wasn't. She hoped he would have a good year, because hers was not shaping up to be the best.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading. Please take the time to let me know what you think.


	4. Chapter 4

It was Tuesday afternoon, and Liz had sorted the Owl Post, scheduled several appointments for non-magical families who were having trouble adjusting to their wizarding children, and had delivered the report for the Ministry. Draco was in his office with the latest family to receive a letter concerning the magical status of their toddler, and Liz seized the opportunity to firecall Ginny Potter. It was not the first time that Liz had called since last Thursday; the day after Toby had gone off to Hogwarts. Liz had tried twice since then, with no luck. She cursed the fact that wizards had never invented the magical equivalent of an answering machine. 

She took a pinch of the magical powder and sneezed as she threw it in the fireplace. Of course, she had to have an allergy to something she must use daily in her job. She let the green flames die down, and then took another bit, pinching her nose shut. In a very nasal tone, she shouted, “Ginny Potter's residence, please.” 

Liz stuck her head in the green flames, feeling as anxious about using this mode of communication this time as she had the first time. Humans were not meant to put their heads anywhere near a raging inferno. “Hello, Mrs. Potter?” 

A bushy-headed woman stuck her head in the flames from the other end. Liz had only seen her a few times from a distance, and could not remember her name. Liz thought it was Miney or something. The other woman replied, her tone mildly pleasant, “Ginny's busy right now. May I take a message?” 

“Yeah... Yes, can you please tell Mrs. Potter that Liz Cowell called from the Muggle Liaison Office?” 

The woman's expression underwent a transformation from politely open to hostilely shuttered. “I see. Yes, I'll see she gets the message. ” 

The woman ended the connection abruptly. Liz pulled her head out of the Floo. “Bloody fucking cow.” 

From behind her, she heard Drake clear his throat. She stood, brushing the chimney soot from her jumper, sucking her cheek between her teeth. Drake was trying not to laugh. The upper-crust parents, with whom he had the appointment stood beside him. The haughty woman had a mingled expression of shock and disdain. Liz struggled to keep from flushing. “Yes, Mr. Malfoy?” 

His voice was tremulous with suppressed laughter, as he said, “Could you give the St. John's their paperwork and make their next appointment, please? Afterwards, I'd like to see you in my office.” 

The woman, a long nosed bint with perfectly coiffed, ash-blonde hair, took the paperwork from Liz's grubby, soot-stained hand. The man was busy looking Liz up and down, with more than just polite interest. He looked the type that liked a little kink on the side and would be aroused by Liz's gaffe. The appointment made, Liz escorted them to the door, and then turned to enter Drake's office. 

Her boss was sitting with his back to her, shoulders shaking with silent mirth. She said, with little heat, “Okay, Drake, they're gone. Laugh it up.” 

A snort issued from his corner and he turned to her, with a bleary-eyed smile. “Sorry, kid. That was priceless. Did you see that woman's face? It couldn't have been sourer if she had eaten a lemon. Merlin, she reminded me of my mother.” 

A faint woman's voice sounded from the outer office. “Ms. Cowell?” 

“Sorry, I've got to get that.” Liz fled from the scene.

&*&*&

Sometimes Draco thought of the war; more specifically, he usually thought of the time the Manor had been turned into a prison. Mr. Ollivander had come first; of course, Draco had not known that at the time. He was enjoying his last year at school, plotting to kill Dumbledore and double-cross Snape. Good times, those. He had participated in the wand maker’s later torture, before Harry Potter had rescued him. Then came the goblin, Sunflower or Gribli, something he never could remember because when he had attempted to speak to it, his father had punished him quite effectively. Draco's body still carried the curse scars, and he never tried speaking to the Goblin again. Luna Lovegood had been last. She was the one that haunted him. 

His Uncle Rodolphus had her for two days before she came to the manor. She entered unconscious and bleeding. Lucius had been coldly furious at his brother-in-law. Draco had witnessed the torture session Lucius conducted on the man, after Rodolphus had deposited the girl in the dungeon. It was horrifying, the cool detachment of his father, as he inflicted curse after curse on Aunt Bella's husband. Lucius never uttered a sound and did not even breathe heavily as he conducted Rodolphus' punishment. At the end of the gruelling hour, Lucius turned to Draco and pronounced coolly, “That is what one does to defilers of pureblood women.” 

His father had stepped over the still-writhing body of his brother-in-law. “Come Draco, I will need your help to set things right.” 

Draco followed, aware of the tension in his father's shoulders and the heaviness of his normally light step. They entered the dungeon where a defeated Ollivander and the Goblin were chained. Luna's unconscious body lay beside them. Lucius' hands shook as he pulled vials out of his robes, placing them out in order of use. Draco sat and cradled the girl's head in his lap. Her dirty-blonde hair spread out around her, darkened in spots from blood and other effluvia. 

After applying _Ennervate_ with no effect, Lucius snapped a capsule, which contained a vile-smelling gas and waved it quickly under the girl's nose. She sputtered and struggled to sit. Lucius barked, “Keep her still, Draco.” 

They worked in gravid silence, Lucius occasionally supplementing the potions with charms and spells to quicken the healing process. Luna, at first bewildered, finally rested her head in Draco's lap and twined her fingers through his. Her eyes drifted closed. That one act of trust and acceptance shattered Draco. He was still haunted by it. At the end of the healing, Luna thanked them. As Lucius left the room and Draco paused to let the blood flow painfully back into his deadened legs, Luna said, in her dreamy-voiced serenity, “I always liked you Draco. You never made fun of me.” 

He paused, guilty. “I honestly never noticed you.” 

“I know,” she smiled. “That was nice.” 

Now, he sat with his office door open, listening in chagrin to Liz speaking with the woman in the fire call. His friend was lonely. She almost admitted it when she said she had thought of changing her look to attract 'the right kind of attention' in her words. Draco had never noticed his friend's need. He resolved to make sure she had plenty of opportunities to meet the right kind of women. He would give Millie Bulstrode a call and see what places she might recommend for Liz. There was an idea; if Millie was not seeing anyone, he might arrange a blind date. He would make that call tonight.

&*&*&

The Slytherin first-years were in Defence Against the Dark Arts with Gryffindor. Toby was beginning to dread the class, but not because of Professor Zabini. He was really a great teacher. 

It was the Gryffindors that made him hate coming. For some reason, they hated all the Slytherins in the class and seemed to have it in for them. Something happened last term that had been bad, but Toby had been unable to get anyone to tell him about it so far. When he asked Teddy, all the older boy would say was that the fault lay with both Houses, and to not worry about it. 

Professor Zabini had broken the week into technical and practical days. Wednesdays were days for the technical stuff, the days his raspy voice was spell-enhanced and he would tell of his travels. He had travelled a lot. The rest of the week was for the practical work. Those were the days that Toby both dreaded and anticipated. Each Slytherin was paired with a Gryffindor. Toby's partner was a blond girl named Victoire. Her mother was part Veela and her father was a Weasley. Toby was unsure what that meant, but several Housemates had commented on his good luck at being paired with the girl. She seemed all right to him, but of course, she was friends with Teddy too. 

During class today, they had resumed practicing shield spells. Most of the first-years struggled with it, Toby included. Near the end of the class, Victoire had produced a shield spell that deflected even Professor Zabini's thrown _Expelliarmus_. Victoire, after being roundly praised by the Professor, urged Toby, in an undertone, “See if you can do that spell, Toby. I bet you can. You're almost as good as Teddy.” 

Toby looked to the front of the class where his Head of House was instructing a student on the proper pronunciation of the spell. Toby ran his lips over his teeth. “I don't know… What if I do it and I hurt you?” 

“Don't be silly, I’ll shield.” Victoire shook her hair from her eyes in that irritating, girly way she had. 

Toby shook his wand hand out, and then whispered, “ _Expelliarmus._ ” 

Victoire attempted to block, but the spell broke through her defences. She ended up on her bum after sliding across the room. Toby caught her wand, barely. He rushed to her, to help her up. “Oh, Jesus, Mary and Joseph. I'm sorry, Victoire, I thought you were ready.” 

She was smiling up at him goofily, “That was brilliant. Could you do it again?” 

Toby took her outstretched hand and jerked her up, a little too forcefully, before he noticed the silence of the classroom. Victoire was dusting off her bum, her mouth no longer drawn in anything close to a smile. That was when Toby felt the hand of the Professor on his neck. “Mr. Cowell, Miss Weasley, detention. Here... Tonight... Seven o'clock.” 

Toby was afraid to look at him, so mumbled, “Yes, sir.” 

Professor Zabini dismissed them after giving the reading assignment. Victoire lingered outside the door as Toby gathered his books. The blonde touched him on the arm, another girly gesture he hated. “I'm sorry; I didn't mean to get you in trouble.” 

Toby grumbled, “You're in trouble too.” 

“I know. If my Dad finds out about it, I'll get a Howler.” Victoire's shoulders slumped, and then she smiled again. “That was dead brilliant though. D'you think you could show me how you did it?” 

The girl jostled his shoulder with her own, playfully. “I'll show you how I cast the _Protego_.” 

By the end of Care of Magical Creatures, his last class of the day, Toby was thoroughly sick of Gryffindors and Slytherins alike. His Housemates had surreptitiously cheered him when other students were present for getting one over on a Gryffindor. The Gryffindors, for the most part, pushed and bullied him in the hallways and whatever class he was in with them. Teddy and Victoire had tried to put up a united front for him with their Housemates, but were brushed aside. Everyone knew that Toby had bewitched both of them. 

Toby tried to study with his group, but kept receiving so much praise that it was impossible to concentrate. Rose Alston, the other semi-Muggle-born in his group finally gave up in disgust, tossing her near-black hair and putting her freckled nose up in the air pugnaciously. She said, loud enough for the whole Common Room to hear, “If some people weren't so concerned about getting attention, the rest of us could study.” 

Toby slunk out of the room. It was almost detention time anyway. 

He made his way up to the classroom from the dungeons. Victoire and Teddy Lupin greeted him at the door. 

“Don't tell me you've got detention too?” Toby asked in surprise. 

Teddy smiled halfheartedly, his hair changing to an indeterminate seaweed colour. “No, Gryffindor isn't very nice traitors right now. I thought I'd pass some time in the library after I walked Vicky here.” 

Toby kicked at an uneven flagstone with the scuffed toe of his trainers. “Yeah, but it's better than being praised for hurting a friend. I really am sorry if I... “ 

Victoire’s laugh cut him off. “Don't be silly. I still want to know how you did that. You said you'd show me.” 

“Yeah, mate me too. I mean that's a second year spell. We haven’t even covered it yet,” Teddy praised. “I can't believe you learned it after seeing it one time... Unless your uncle showed you?” 

“Nah. He would not work magic around my mum for the longest time. He was afraid she'd die like... um. Forget I said that.” 

His friend looked at him quizzically, but only shrugged. Victoire finally said, “It's time we faced the One-Armed-Magician. Bye, Teddy, I’ll see you later.” 

Professor Zabini opened the door at Victoire's timid knock. “Miss Weasley, Mr. Cowell, I’m glad you're on time. We have much to cover this evening.” 

The two children slumped. Victoire stepped forward. “I'm sorry sir, for interrupting your class, but it wasn't Toby's fau... “ 

“Silence, Weasley. If you're going to be learning advanced spell-work, we need to get started.” The Professor closed the door behind them.

&*&*&

Scorpius was laying in his bed listening to one of his favourite Beedle the Bard stories. His eyes were drifting shut when his hand clutched reflexively. “Daddy, where is my Mummy?” 

Draco shushed him, unwilling to get into the involved conversation when they were both so tired. “Son, Mummy's in heaven. Now close your eyes.” 

“Will I see her?” Scorpius struggled against the droop of his lids. 

Draco closed the book softly. “Maybe she'll visit you in your dreams.” 

“Why don't you marry Auntie Lizzie? She's a good Mummy for Toby.” Scorpius struggled to sit. Draco placed a repressive hand on his son's shoulder. 

“Son, Auntie Liz doesn't want to marry Daddy. Now sleep. You have a long day tomorrow. You start day school, remember?” 

His son snuggled into his hand. Draco ran his calloused thumb over the boy's soft-golden cheek, remembering the smoothness of Tish's honeyed skin. He closed his eyes but only saw a pair of sparking brown eyes under a thatch of impossibly coloured hair. In his mind, he saw pixieish features draw close, felt the brush of maroon-rouged lips on his mouth, felt the black-polished fingers of his friend draw him towards her. He felt the heaviness of arousal in his scrotum as she kissed him. He awoke with a start. Scorpius stirred but only turned on his belly in the frog pose he had slept in since he was a baby. 

Draco stood, placing the book on the shelf beside his son's bed, dampening the light to a soft glow. He had been having increasingly disturbing visions of his friend since Toby had left for Hogwarts. He felt himself watching her involuntarily for signs of interest, but knew she would never reciprocate. She had told him as much on their first meeting in the soup kitchen five years ago. 

“ _Oh, I ain't married. I like girls._ ” Her face was lit with the righteousness of a person long wronged and misunderstood. He had promised himself that he would help her along, today, and so he made his way to the Floo. Millie had given him her location. He would call her this evening.

&*&*&

Liz hugged the bottle of vodka to her chest. Tonight was the anniversary of her first day of captivity. Twelve years ago, she had been raped, tortured and got with child. Twelve years ago, she had watched, as her first and only boyfriend was tortured to death while her virginity was stolen. It was a good night to drink. 

Drake never knew she did this. It was her own private mourning of things that never should have been. Sure, she was glad she had her son. She would have killed herself long ago if he had not been there for her... _After_... Glimpses of The Week still haunted her dreams. Toby looked like his sperm donor. She knew that. She also knew that Drake had known him, had called him uncle. She did not blame her friend for not being more forthcoming about her rapist's identity. If she were in his position, she would not want to share that information either.   
She downed another swig of the vile stuff. Medicine for a broken life. 

Tears formed at the corners of her eyes, blinding her. She never knew, at this point in her yearly celebration, if it was effects of the vodka or the death of her childhood that brought tears to her eyes, only that they were there. 

As in years before, images of the two who saved her from the devil, one light and coldly angelic, one dark and bitterly sardonic, flashed in her mind. The dark man and the one she now knew as Drake's father, pulling her from the pit of hell, casting spells to make the devil forget their role in her salvation. The dizzying flight by nightmare-winged horse. The Dark Man's gentle hands as fifteen-year-old Liz emerged from her catatonia in the safe house. All forgotten except on this night. 

She groaned as the alcohol began trying to return. 

She stood unsteadily, the bottle drifting out of her numbed fingers. Tomorrow she would worry about that mess. Tonight was for what was and what could have been. The tears finally fell as she stumbled to her bed. One year's worth of oblivion, paid in full.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading. Please take the time to let me know what you think.


	5. Chapter 5

Salvation

Chapter 5

Saturdays were always Liz's favourite day of the week. She loved the day because the bustle of the streets in London was like nothing else in the country. She enjoyed the street vendors from so many nations hawking their wares. She enjoyed the lost-looking tourists, asking for directions in their stilted English, or their puzzled Yank counterparts who could not understand how two peoples who spoke the same language, could not transcend it. Today, she was enjoying the bustle of London with Ginny Potter and her friend Hermione. Well, maybe she was not enjoying the Hermione slag as much as the ever-fascinated Ginny Potter was. 

Hermione was familiar with the Muggle world, so Ginny had talked her into coming on Liz's grown-up-clothes-buying spree. Ginny had seemed mystified by the tension between Liz and her oldest friend. Liz could not have told her the reason the bushy-headed hag was a bitch to her, anymore than she could explain why one end of a magnet would not attract to the same pole of another. They just repelled each other. In Liz's philosophy of life, sod her if she did not like her. 

Ginny was paused in front of a shoe shop, one that specialised in shoes that were not Doc Martens or Birkenstocks. Liz mistrusted the strappy, stiletto-heeled delicacy of the confections in the window display, and hung back, biting the inside of her cheek with nervous anticipation. The Hermione bint entered the shop, babbling on about how delightful the store was. Liz wanted to check her pocketbook, to see if she had enough money. Ginny rolled her eyes at Liz. “Come on, Liz. Half the fun of shopping is the hunt. It's an evolutionary imperative.”

Four hours and a severely lightened bank account later, and Liz was ready to rollover for the next generation of shopping mutations. Her genes were definitely more suited to the consignment shops and vintage markets of the East End. Ginny was flagging too. Liz juggled several bags as they headed to the Underground. Ginny had consolidated her purchases into a small bundle from the stationer's shop that she tucked in her purse. She had offered to do the same for Liz, but Liz demurred. She would not have a way to unshrink them once she got home, and she was reluctant to have Drake look at some of the things she had purchased. Hermione, who had warmed to Liz appreciably since she found out that Drake was not her lover, had an ingenious evening bag that shrank everything until she pulled it out. That beaded bag was magic worth working in Liz's opinion. 

The three women headed to Diagon Alley, where Ginny had promised Liz lunch. Her husband, Harry, was to meet them there with their children. Hermione's husband was on duty, so she begged off. “I have to rescue Molly from Hugo and Rose, or the Burrow will be in shambles. It was nice getting to know you, Liz.”

Liz's non-committal nod was all she felt Hermione deserved. The two women watched as the bushy-headed woman Disapparated. Again, Liz felt the cognitive dissonance of reality and unreality. She did not think she would ever get truly used to magic.

Ginny pulled a reluctant Liz into the dark interior of the Leaky Cauldron and the redhead greeted the ancient proprietor, Tom. He peered frostily at Liz and grunted a reply. Liz did not think he liked having her in there, much. They made their way across the crowded room to a table occupied by four small children, Harry and Drake. The two men looked uncomfortable in each other's presence, even though the children were happily chatting about things talked about by children of a certain age. Drake stood at their approach, and Harry hastily followed his lead, scowling. Her friend gave her a piercing look, one that set Liz's pulse fluttering, unaccountably. His grey eyes were stormy today. Liz surmised that Scorpius must have been a pain this morning. He greeted her with a brush of his lips on her cheek, his expression warming, “Hey, kid. Did you buy all the shops out?”

Liz grumbled as he pulled out her chair, while squinting at the menu board, “I hate shopping.”

Once everyone was seated, Harry laughed heartily. “Did you hear that, Angel? A woman who hates shopping!”

Liz's eyes shot to Drake's at the utterance of his pet name for Tish. He took her hand under the table, and squeezed it. Potter cleared his throat, aware of his unintended blunder. Drake shook his head slightly, as if warning the dark-haired man not to apologise. Turning to Liz, her friend said, “I've asked someone to meet us here today. I hope you don't mind. She's an old school chum.”

The door from the Diagon Alley side opened, admitting a group of grey-clad MLE agents. Drake stood and went to a square-built woman with shiny, black hair. Ginny sniggered, “Is that Millicent Bulstrode? I'm glad Hermione's not here.”

“Yeah, it might be like bad old times, then.” Harry answered, his expression sardonic. Attempting to wave the waitress over, he said, “How long have we been sitting here?”

Mystified, Liz asked, “Why didn't any of you get along in school?”

Ginny laughed. “Oh, Malfoy and Bulstrode were in Slytherin. We were Gryffindor. Those two houses traditionally don't get along. Slytherin has a bad reputation, you might say.”

“Sure,” under his breath, Harry added, “for evil.”

Ginny hissed, “Harry!”

“My Toby's in Slytherin.” Liz felt her jaw jut pugnaciously. Her eyes narrowed. “I hope he doesn't suddenly start spewing pea soup, or asking for a spare crucifix.”

“What does...? Oomph.” Harry began, and then caught his wife's glare after she jabbed him in his side with her bony elbow. “I'm sorry, I didn't mean it.” 

The adults fell into an uncomfortable silence, as Drake approached with the Officer. Harry stood, hastily. “Officer Bulstrode, please have a seat.”

The woman grimaced, and chose the chair closest to Liz. The woman's blue eyes swept Liz's form expectantly. Drake smiled, as if he had a highly exciting secret. “Millie, I'd like you to meet Liz Cowell.”

Liz knew ‘come-hither’ looks, and she watched in dawning horror as the woman gave one to her. After a moment of near hysterical panic, she stood. “I've got to go to the loo. Where is it?”

Ginny pointed the way, giving explicit directions as Liz nearly ran to the corner she indicated.

Liz entered the door marked _Witch_ and began washing her face with shaking hands. She moaned, “Oh, bloody hell. Oh, bloody fucking hell... “

The mirror _tsked_ and in offended tones, said, “Language, dear. The gent's is next door if you want to exercise your tongue in that manner.”

A few deep breaths later and Liz still did not know what to do. She closed her eyes against the invasion of the soft light in the area. A voice from behind the door caused to her to wince. “Liz? Is there something wrong?”

Liz shot the bolt on the door and admitted Ginny. Smiling a little shakily, Liz said, “I've really put my foot in it.”

Ginny listened quietly, issuing a few monosyllables of support, as Liz explained the reason for her flight. When she was through, and less visibly agitated, the auburn-haired beauty burst into tinkling peals of laughter. “I'm sorry, Liz, I know it's not funny, but... it M _really_ is. I mean... you had us all thinking-- Erm... well, this has got to be the best kept secret since Snape was a spy.”

Groaning, Liz sank down on the cabinet top. “What do I do?”

“Well, first, you let me get Bulstrode, and you break it to her,” Ginny began. “Then you've got to tell Malfoy, but let Harry and I leave before you do. That blond has a nasty temper.”

“Shit.”

Ginny smirked. “You said it, sister.”

&*&*&

Millie strode out of the back area, laughing at something Liz said. The Potters had cleared off already, at Ginny's insistence. Draco had seen the woman’s humor as she whispered into her husband's ear. Harry had guffawed loudly, but made his polite excuses before they gathered the children and left with suspicious haste. 

Millie made her way to the table, and Draco stood. She smiled, her eyes dancing with suppressed mirth. “Malfoy, it’s been an interesting date, but I think you should leave matchmaking to the professionals.”

She kissed his cheek, and laughed as she sauntered out of the pub. Liz stood back, her hands clasped together. He drew her to the table where Scorpius sat colouring quietly in a Muggle colouring book. He pulled her seat out for her, and leaned over her shoulder. Her hair brushed his cheek as he asked into the shell of her ear, “Liz, have I missed a joke at my expense?”

“Can we talk about it after we eat? I'm starving.” Draco's gaze drifted to her cheek as she bit it. She shook her short hair down into her eyes, avoiding his pointed look.

The waitress drifted by and he caught the slatternly blonde’s attention. “Miss, we'd like to order now, please.”

The girl took their order of fish and chips for Liz, and roast beef for Draco to share with Scorpius. Draco did not like being made to look a fool, and there had been entirely too much mirth at his expense today, he suspected. He settled into his seat, and crossed his arms over his chest. “Liz, tell me what's so funny. I think I'd like a good laugh, myself.”

The food was brought to the table and the two friends were silent as the waitress placed the plates before them. Draco cut his roast into small bites for his son, and placed them on a separate plate, along with a small helping of potatoes and carrots. Scorpius began wolfing down the food, and Draco admonished him, “Slow down, son. You'll choke.”

Draco shot an accusatory look at his friend, as if it were somehow Liz's fault that his son was hungry. “Well? We're eating, tell me.”

Liz was picking fitfully at the fish, removing the batter from the white flesh with her fork, and fitfully smashing the chips. “I'm not a lesbian. I never have been.”

Draco's hand arrested the motion of her fork. He said sharply, “I thought you said you were hungry.”

“I'm sorry Drake. I should have told you, but you were... you know, one of _them_. And then there was Tish and Scorpius. And we got on so well... then I didn't know how to tell you I had lied...” His friend looked down at his hand, which still held hers, tears glistening on her blackened lashes. “I just didn't know how to tell you after so long.”

Draco fought the urge to take her in his arms. He never could stand a crying woman, and his friend never shed tears. “It's okay, kid. Just don't do it again.”

She snuffled once, and smirked. “What, tell you I'm a lesbian? I don't think you'll believe it twice, even if you are a natural blond.”

He shoved her good-naturedly with his shoulder. “Shut it and eat.”

&*&*&

Sunday at Hogwarts was Toby's least favourite day. He felt odd not going to Mass with his grandmother, mother, Uncle Drake and Scorpius. He usually went to the lake to pray, but it was not the same as hearing Father Cavanaugh say Mass. It was not the same when he could not take communion or serve as altar boy. He missed the rituals and incense, and he missed the closeness of his family after the service as they all piled into Grandma's kitchen for her after-Mass feast. 

Today he headed out to the lake, as usual, rosary in hand, and sat, skipping stones across the water towards the giant squid. His thoughts were too scattered for prayer. He missed home so much. He felt the tears that had been so close to the surface all week, drip down his nose and land with a plop on his lap. He was not even sure if he was a good Catholic anymore. Could he be a wizard and be a Catholic at the same time? Would God still love him, if he could work some of the same miracles as Jesus did? Uncle Drake was, but that was different somehow. He had always been a wizard; he became a Catholic afterwards, so he didn’t know any different. Maybe. Toby didn’t honestly know. 

He jumped as he felt a hand on his shoulder. He hastily dashed the moisture from his cheeks and looked up into the handsome countenance of his Head of House.

“Mr. Cowell, is there a problem?” Professor Zabini asked as he lowered himself onto the ground next to Toby. The older man looked at the rosary clutched in the boy's hand. The Professor looked at him expectantly.

“No, sir, there's no problem.” Toby said, finally acknowledging his professor. “It's just that I miss going to Mass.”

“I see,” the Professor said, but Toby did not think he did. The boy looked out at the giant squid as it waved its tentacles in the cooling breeze. The Professor finally added, “If it would help, maybe you could contact your priest. I would be glad to post it for you when I go to London next weekend.”

“That would be nice, sir. Thank you.” Toby ducked his head, feeling the tears begin to form again.

The Professor smiled, his handsome face lit by the expression. “Compose that letter, and I will see he gets it. Now, I believe Miss Alston is waiting for you in the Common Room. You missed your study group session this week because of your detention, and she's kindly offered to assist you.”

Toby blushed. Rose Alston was the prettiest girl in Slytherin, with her black-brown hair, changeable hazel eyes, and cute freckles across her nose. She did not like him much, because of the difficulty of the previous week, but Toby liked her plenty. “Thank you, sir.”

Toby waited a moment for the older man to join him, but when he did not, he walked back up to the castle.

&*&*&

Mass was over, and the family dinner at Mrs. Cowell's house was well underway. Draco sat in the cramped parlour area, reading his copy of the _Daily Prophet._ He always read it front to back, as his father had taught him to do. Many things could be said of Lucius, but he was always well-informed from whatever source he had before him. Draco was nearing the end of the _Society_ section when a picture caught his eye. Parvati Patil and a beaming Justin Finch-Fletchley were posed in front of a Muggle manor house. The caption stated that the parents of Parvati Patil and Justin Finch-Fletchley were pleased to announce the engagement of their children. Draco sat, stunned, crumpling the paper between his fists. She had said nothing of this on their last assignation on Friday afternoon. Yes, their coupling had been brief and rough, but that was nothing unusual. They both just met for sex, and until she had made him party to this cuckolding of her fiancé, he was fine with that. 

Liz exited the kitchen area with a flour-doused Scorpius. “Drake, your son has been such a help this afternoon, but could you... What is it? Is it word of your parents?”

Draco stood, “It's nothing. My parents are as fine as they can be in prison. Come, Scorpius, I think we need to do a little repair to your Sunday clothes.”

The rest of the afternoon, he passed in a haze of anger and hurt. What was it to him if she acted a faithless bitch? He was getting what he wanted. However, he was not alone any longer. He had Scorpius to consider, and Liz and Toby's reputations. He would break it off in their next meeting, he promised himself, before he could hurt anyone else, as he had been by the announcement. 

Liz kept giving him odd looks as he brooded his way through luncheon and their normal Sunday afternoon stroll, but she said nothing. Scorpius ran ahead, to the park screeching with joy as he saw the playground equipment for the thousandth time. Liz sat on a park bench as Draco monitored his son's play. She did not press him to talk, for which Draco was truly thankful. 

_The bitch!_ He thought with each sound of the swing as it flew forward then back, propelling his young son through the air to the boy's delight. Draco decided he would contact Patil at the hospital, and have it out. Then he decided he would wait and shag her into submission before he dropped her. 

_The bitch!_ The thought echoed in his mind. Images of her slender body, riding him as he guided her to their completion; her black hair splayed across a pillow and kohl dark eyes bleary from spent passion; her hands as they worked him, expert in their ministrations. 

_The bitch!_ As he remembered her scorn of him, and how he accepted it as the currency he paid to shag her. 

It was best of he called it off before he shagged her. He would break it off in the most brutal manner, and then heap the same scorn on her for fucking him, a former Death Eater. His mind swirled with scenarios of all the ways he could hurt her, or make her want him, while he pushed his son through the air, the boy's lithe form flying away from the stigma with which his father and grandfather had stamped him. It would end, no matter what Draco had to do.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading. Please take a moment and let me know what you think.


	6. Chapter 6

Salvation

Chapter 6

Draco waited in the room, their room, while Patil showered down the hall. It had been four weeks since his discovery of her engagement, four weeks since he had resolved to break it off with her. Yet, here he was again, shagging like a stag in rut. He told himself that it was the Slytherin thing to do, taking what was offered. Yet he had remained a virgin until he had met Tish, well after he had left school, well after his days serving Riddle. October was here and Patil was to be married by the end of January.

Liz. Thoughts of her came unbidden and unwanted almost constantly since her little announcement. He was almost constantly assailed at night by images of her long limbs wrapped around him, her smallish breasts under his tongue, her moaning compliance as he slid into her, claiming her. Tish had never evoked the strong carnal images that Liz did. He was as much a beast a Rodolphus because now that he knew she was available for his lust, he lusted. Hence, the real reason he came to Patil every week. If he was going to spend his animal passions, he would rather it be on someone he hated than someone like Liz.

Her new wardrobe and such were not helping him ignore her either. She had gone from adolescent to polished woman in a month. Her movements, always graceful and languorous, reminded him of the best of the pureblood women his mother had entertained when he was a child. Her subdued makeup and softly coloured brown hair made him remember the confused fantasies he had once had of Granger after she slapped him third year. Draco felt himself damnably responding once more to the images she evoked.

He ran his hand through his rumpled, dandelion fuzz coloured hair, trying to smooth it so he could tie it back in the elastic band he usually wore outside this room. Once his hair was under control, he cast a cleansing charm on himself and attempted to heal the scratches with which Patil had marked him. He could not afford for his son to mention them around anyone. The boy was still young enough to sneak into Draco's room when he had a nightmare. He dressed in the Muggle clothes he wore under his robes, and donned the light outer robes he wore for his work. Lunchtime was over, and Liz would be wondering where he had gone. Next week he would definitely break it off with Patil.

&*&*&

Toby, Victoire and Rose made their way out of the Potions classroom on their way to Defence Against the Dark Arts. They were talking animatedly about research the three were conducting for the improvement of a headache Potion. The idea had been Victoire's, but Rose had come up with the procedure to infuse more willow bark into the Potion, while decreasing the overall volatility. It had been Toby's idea to attempt to improve the taste, so he was in charge of rendering those details. He was stumped, so the three planned a trip to the library this evening after dinner. Victoire walked a little ahead of them as she made her way to the stairs, still speaking about their concerns for their additions, when an invisible barrier physically stopped her. Toby moved towards her, but was hit by a Jelly-Legs jinx. He lay writhing on the floor as two older, hooded students in Gryffindor robes hexed Rose. She began dancing uncontrollably. 

Toby shouted, “Don't! She's got asthma!”

One of the boys laughed, “So? The ickle Death Eater's bastard can't handle a little magic? Let her go back to her Muggle-whore of a mother.”

“ _Expelliarmus!_ ” Victoire screamed, only to have the spell rebound off the shield that held her. It narrowly missed her before whizzing up the stairs. Toby pulled himself along the floor, watching Rose become more winded, and paler. He cast _Finite Incantatum_ as one of the Gryffindors pummelled him with hex after hex. Toby struggled to remain conscious so that he could cast an effective _Protego_ for Rose, who was had collapsed against a wall, wheezing and turning an alarming shade of grey. 

The other attacker aimed a kick at Toby's side, and the young Slytherin felt a painful snap. “There you go, you little Death Eater. Tell yer Daddy we said hello.” 

As the two attackers fled up the stairs, they cast a full body-bind on Victoire, who slid down the steps on which she had been standing. Her head struck the hard stone of the floor and she looked dazedly up at them. “That's what traitors get for associating with Death Eater spawn.”

Then the world went black for Toby.

He woke sometime later as Professor Longbottom levitated him grimly through the Infirmary doors. Madam Hasselnuss, with her soft accent and rosy cheeks, exclaimed softly over him. Professor Zabini followed with Rose, who seemed to be breathing easier. Victoire and Teddy trailed behind them. Victoire's nose was bloody and she clutched her temples as if she had a headache.

Toby hurt all over, and his stomach was less than settled as he tried to sit up after being placed on the clean-sheeted bed. Professor Longbottom stayed his motion with a gesture, “No, you need to stay still until Madam has a better idea of your injuries.”

The young Slytherin stole a look at Professor Zabini, trying to gauge how much in trouble they were for missing his class, and being involved in a Duel. The man seemed quite angry as he administered first Rose's Muggle medicine for her condition, then the potion that Headmaster Snape had developed for asthma, years ago, before Uncle Drake had even gone to school. Toby closed his eyes, willing the tears to stay behind his closed lids, while Madam Hasselnuss ran diagnostic spells on him. He felt a cool hand laid against his cheek, then the gentle Gryffindor Head of House said, “Professor Zabini has contacted your parents. They should be here shortly.”

He listened as the mediwitch catalogued the hexes that had been used on him. Most were ones a student would not learn until their fourth year. As she worked, she began removing the rib that had broken, then handed him a vial of nasty smelling potion. He read it carefully before downing it. The directions said he would have his bone back in ‘one day guaranteed’. She then handed him another potion, “It's a sleeping draught. Please take it so you can sleep well tonight.”

Toby did, and drifted almost immediately to sleep.

&*&*&

Drake was tense as he entered the office. Liz looked up at the clock, and gave a sniff. He had been with the mystery woman again. 

She was beginning to hate Friday afternoons because of Her, whoever she was. Not that she begrudged Drake his fun, but he was in such a damned bad mood after his visits with Her. She looked up at the clock. He was barely in time for his two o'clock appointment and he reeked of sex and expensive perfume. She cleared her throat as she began typing again. “You might want to freshen up a bit. You smell like Her.”

She fluffed her newly dyed hair self-consciously. She had gone to an actual salon to have it done to match her new professional look just last week. If she had hoped to elicit a response from Drake, she had been disappointed. He had withdrawn all approval of her efforts to better herself. Several blokes from down the hall had given her appreciative looks, however, so sod Drake and his... What? Inattention? 

No, Liz knew he was looking. She caught him sometimes through the opened office door, his gaze intent, his sensuous mouth slack, but he always looked away with a scowl. 

She had begun dreaming of him sometime since he had taken up with the Whore he was shagging. Funny, her thoughts had rarely run towards him that way, until he came to the office the first time, smelling of Her musk. One whiff and Liz began tingling, thinking of how he got that smell. Shit, she was a perv. And lonely. And in an odd way, still innocent of the ways of a man and woman. She knew the only reason she wanted her friend was that he was familiar and she knew him to be kind, not like the one who made Toby.

Her friend flushed and hurried to his office, slamming the door behind him. Liz hated the change in their relationship since her admission of a few weeks ago. Gone was the easy camaraderie, the gentle touches and small kisses they exchanged as friends. It was as if he had withdrawn from her and left the shell of her friend in his place. She sighed gustily. She missed him and did not know what to do to get him back. 

The door opened and a young Nigerian couple stepped through, bringing exotic scents and a feeling of warmth. Liz smiled up at them. “You must be Mr. and Mrs. Sola. If you'll fill out this paperwork, I'll inform Mr. Malfoy you’re here.”

The man took the papers and began filling them out, looking around the office nervously, as if waiting for magic to happen spontaneously. Liz had seen that reaction a thousand times before. 

She made her way to Drake's office and knocked. Hearing Drake's abrupt, “Enter,” Liz stuck her head through the door. “Your two o'clock's here,” she said.

Drake must have taken care of his problem, because the air in the room smelled nothing like it had when he blew into the office earlier. Her friend nodded and said, “Show them in, please.”

Liz escorted the two to his door, and sat back at her desk to resume the catch-up work she had set for herself today. The Muggle Liaison office had been busier than anyone ever expected. Muggle-born births had increased since the end of the war, and cases of accidental magic were on the rise because of it. Liz was working on a report that would help alleviate the workload for the already strained workers in the Department of Reversal of Accidental Magic. Drake and she were proposing the first primary schools for Muggleborns in the U.K. based on the model used in Germany, Japan and now the States. She turned back to the report, typing with painstaking care on the old manual Underwood typewriter that she had bought at a jumble sale five years ago. Even though their office was not located in a magical area, they had found that Drake's magic alone was enough to fry any computer system in the room.

She worked steadily through the next hour, stopping only to let the couple out of the office. Drake kept his door firmly shut; a new thing on Fridays. Liz did not like that either. At four o'clock, as she was winding down her day, Draco entered the room. She did not bother looking up. Things were strained between them now. When he stopped before her desk, she glanced up and was arrested by the white look of fury on his face. Tiredly, she asked, “What is it, Drake?”

“There's been an incident at Hogwarts. They've asked you to come.” He placed a steadying hand on her arm. “Toby's been injured.”

Liz felt the edges of her vision blacken, and she staggered as she stood. “Draco, go with me. I can't face this alone.”

He nodded sharply and began arranging for Ian Cavanaugh to care for Scorpius.

&*&*&

They Floo'ed from their office to the Headmaster's Office, Draco holding his shaking friend tightly in his arms. Headmaster Lepidus and Professor Longbottom were waiting in the room along with Harry Potter and Seamus Finnigan, who were dressed in the robes of the Auror's office. Draco made an effort to slow his breathing. Even though he had been in the office before, the portraits of Dumbledore and an unmoving Snape always rattled him. He nodded politely at all assembled, introducing Liz in the process.

Finnigan scowled at Draco, but Potter greeted him, his eyes solemn. Longbottom stepped forward. “Ms. Cowell, if I may escort you to the infirmary?”

Liz allowed the Gryffindor to pull her from Draco's protective embrace, and followed. As the warmth of her body was taken from him, Draco's anger mounted.

After they absented themselves, Draco turned sharply to the youngish Headmaster, a man in his seventies, rather than the wizened one hundred and fifty of Albus Dumbledore. “What the hell did you do to my Godson?”

Lepidus had the good grace to flush slightly before he gestured for Draco to sit down. “Mr. Malfoy, I'm sure in your position as Liaison Officer you've been made aware of the problems of last term between Gryffindor and Slytherin.”

“No,” Draco drawled, casting darkling looks at Potter and Finnigan. “I must have missed that memo.”

“I'm sorry, truly. I informed the Board of Governors and was assured that all Hogwarts adjunct staff would be informed.” The Headmaster's scowl fell to a stack of parchment on his desk, making the sandy-haired man suddenly look older and more careworn. “Well, ah, there was some unpleasantness between some pureblood students whose parents fought on either side in the conflict. The Aurory was informed due to the identities of the participants and their family ties. Several students were disciplined. Professors Zabini and Longbottom have put several restrictions on their respective houses this term, and we had thought the problem was alleviated to a certain extent.”

“Until today.” Potter broke in, his voice cool. Draco turned his scathing attention to the former Gryffindor. “We have taken two fifth year Gryffindors into custody for the attack on Toby, Rose Alston and Victoire Weasley. They will be held by our office until a hearing can be arranged on the disposition of their case.”

“Weasley? How did that one get in Slytherin?” Draco asked with more bite than he meant.

Potter's look of utter horror was quite satisfying. “She's not. She's in Gryffindor.”

Draco smirked as the Headmaster interrupted with an almost Dumbledorean quelling gesture, “Gentlemen? The fact of the matter is, it seems that Mr. Cowell and Miss Alston were singled out for special treatment because of their heritage.”

“Let me guess, Alston’s mother was a victim of Muggle-baiting too?” Draco wondered if Snape saved her also. So many victims had been. Draco really did not know how the man had time to work evil for the Dark Lord, act as Hogwarts’ Headmaster, and sleep, on top of saving Muggles from Uncle Rodolphus and his cronies. There were only so many hours in the day. “I don't recall the name coming through my office. But there were so many weren't there?”

Lepidus looked uncomfortable, Finnigan snorted and Potter stared ahead. Potter knew Draco's story, and thus Liz's. The Golden Boy was, after all, Scorpius' godfather.

&*&*&

When Liz came to the Infirmary, a heavily scarred man and a gorgeous weeping woman were sequestered with a beautiful blonde girl behind a screen. The girl was alert and speaking softly to her father who was consoling the woman. The boy from the train, the one with rainbow coloured hair and the sweet, sad features of a saint, stood outside the warm glow of the magical lighting. The Professor who had escorted her to the Infirmary, stopped behind the lone boy, and spoke softly to him. The boy hung his head and the Longbottom fellow pointed his wand at two chairs, transforming them into facsimiles that were more comfortable. 

A round little woman in an old-fashioned nurse's costume greeted Liz softly, “You must be Mrs. Cowell. Your son is this way.”

Liz followed her, not having the energy to correct the assumption that most wizards made about her marital status. Her son lay frail and tousle-haired on the ubiquitous white sheets of all medical facilities throughout the world. A darkly handsome man sat beside his bed, reading. When he saw Liz, he stood, reminding Liz of Drake's precise and posh manners. 

“Ms. Cowell,” he said, laying the book down on a table and extending his left hand. The sleeve on the arm rode up, and Liz was sure it was an intended consequence, so practiced was the gesture. He looked down at the exposed limb, and then swept his expressive chocolate eyes up at her face. Liz knew he wanted to put her more at ease, so she took his warm, brown hand and shook it firmly. So, he was telling her he wasn't a Death Eater. He was as smooth as Drake. She nodded tersely as he continued, “I am Mr. Cowell's Head of House, Professor Zabini. I am sorry we have to meet under these circumstances. I'm sure you have quite a few questions.”

With a flick of his wand that had slid down from his sleeve, he drew a chair towards the area. He swept his hand towards the seat. “Please?”

“My boy's never been sick a day in his life,” she started as she sat. “He's never broken a bone or been hit by me or anyone else. He's a good boy, and when I allowed him to come here, I didn't expect him to have to go through this. So, my question is: Why?”

&*&*&

A screaming Mediwitch summoned them to the Infirmary. Draco and Harry took the familiar route to the facility at a dead run. The Headmaster and Finnigan were not far behind. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading. Please take time to let me know what you think.


	7. Chapter 7

The doors to the Infirmary flew open before them as Fleur Weasley fled, uncharacteristic haste. Once in the room, Draco heard, “I-Don't-Give-A-Flying-Fuck-What-You-Said-You-Dog-Sucking-Swiver. If you think I'm leaving my Toby here another minute you can shove it up yer ringhole. And you, you old hag, if you point that stick at me one more time I'll shove it up yer arse so far you'll spit splinters for the next week. Le' go of me!”

A sharp _smack!_ spurred Draco into action. He came around the corner of the curtained partition to see his friend striking Blaise Zabini across the face several times, the sweet smell of freshly spilled Calming Draught filled the air around them. 

Zabini appeared to be speaking softly and intently to Liz with no effect. He finally grabbed her in a bear-like hold around the upper arms and restrained her. The men in the room all sucked in a collective gasp as Liz's knee made contact with his groin. To his credit, he retained hold of her, but a great deal more breathlessly than he had been before the contact. Zabini was still muttering words in her ear and slowly she relaxed against him, her eyes still bright with angry tears, but without the maddened look. The Professor smoothed his hand over her arm, assisting her to a seat beside her sleeping son's bed. 

She was sobbing softly as Draco approached. He sat on the arm of the chair, and drew her to him, thankful that the boy slept still. “What is it, kid?”

Liz snuffled loudly and ran her sleeve under her nose. There was the East End beauty he knew. He handed her a fresh square of cotton, with a grimace. 

She hiccuped while she said, “You know what they said to 'im? Those awful boys who attacked 'im?”

Draco slipped with unsettling ease into the role of her comforter after so many weeks of distance. He kissed her hair, reveling in the softness of it against his lips. “What did they say?”

“They called us whores and practically said... we wanted...” She dissolved into incoherency as Draco clutched for his wand spasmodically. Zabini stepped forward to place a restraining hand on Draco as Longbottom stormed from the room in a swirl of robes that would have done Snape proud. Bill Weasley, Potter and Finnegan followed him. Draco was glad of the Gryffindors' exit. The room fell into an oppressive silence, punctuated by Liz's slowing sniffs. Finally she spoke, her voice conveying her defeat, “You know I never did want him to know I was... you know. I wanted him to know I loved him and not blame his’self.” She whispered the last sentence, “Now I got no choice but to tell him, or he'll think I'm a slut like they said.” 

Professor Lepidus stepped forward, his countenance troubled. “Ms. Cowell, I cannot say how profoundly sorry I am for the actions of the students in my care. Please, don't make any decisions in haste. I have arranged for you and Mr. Malfoy to stay the night so that you might speak to Mr. Cowell when he awakens, if that would be acceptable to you?”

Liz nodded tiredly against Draco's chest. “I am sorry. About everything. I suppose I might have overreacted.”

Zabini smiled broadly. “No, you were magnificent.”

&*&*&

Liz stayed with Toby while Draco and Zabini went off to the Professor's rooms, ostensibly to discuss the state of Hogwarts. On their way, Draco found Potter and asked him to inform Father Cavanaugh of the change in plans, seeing as there were no phones at Hogwarts. Potter, looking terribly aggrieved, agreed. “Please tell Liz... You know.”

Draco nodded. “Thanks, Potty.”

“You too, ferret,” answered Potter. Draco answered Potter's smile. He recognised, in the strange alchemy of being male, that the insults were the first indication of a change in their politely strained friendship.

Down in the dungeons, Draco paused at the door leading to Snape's quarters. Zabini waved him on. “No, I live a little further on. Snape's rooms are warded, and no one's been able to break them.”

“Surely they fell once he died,” Draco gave the door a considering look. “I mean, Dumbledore's wards fell to his office, right?”

Zabini shot a sharp look at his friend. A fleeting expression Draco could not read passed over the dark man's features and then was gone, replaced by the same impassive expression the blond had seen on Snape in his schooldays. “What, do they teach you that look when you take over the Head duties?”

“Just so,” Zabini smiled. “You can bunk in my quarters, if you want. I'm not sure Lepidus knows the nature of your relationship to Ms. Cowell.” He waited a heartbeat. “Do you?”

“Do I what? Know what my relationship is to Liz?” Draco felt his shoulders hunch. _Did he?_ “Don't be disgusting, she's my friend and has helped me through some hard times. That's all.”

Zabini smirked as he came to his own quarters and opened the doors. “It's not much, but it's home.”

Draco stepped into the room and was surprised to see his old friend's description was accurate. The furniture was threadbare Hogwarts' issue; a few tatty pictures adorned the walls. The only sumptuous thing in the room was a rosewood shrine with a large, porcelain Buddha and two other Asian statues with which Draco was not familiar. A bowl of fruit and a lotus-shaped holder for incense sat before the serene central statue. Zabini closed a curtain to the shrine, then drew off his teaching robes and headed for a small bar. “Firewhisky?”

Draco demurred. “No, I don't indulge any longer.”

“Oh, yes, something to do with poisoning by a Muggle?” Blaise nodded, sloshing two fingers of the whisky in a glass.

“Something like that, but it was really by my own hand, and it was a Muggle poison I chose.” Draco sat in one of the armchairs, feeling the horsehair dig through his robes and shirt. He shifted uncomfortably as he withdrew his wand and transfigured the cloth to a nice Italian silk Moire. “Merlin, did you fail Transfiguration?” 

“That, my dear Draco, is my chair for unwanted visitors. You may Transfigure it if you wish, but at least change it back when you leave.” Zabini flopped gracelessly onto a small, equally uncomfortably appointed divan. He sipped the Firewhisky. “Ms. Cowell certainly is a vision.”

“Interested?” Draco drawled past the sudden constriction in his chest. Zabini was too charming by far for Draco to want to compete with him. He was jolted by the thought and sat forward suddenly, clutching the chair’s arms.

As usual, nothing escaped Blaise's attention. He smiled, the lazy one that had caused Millie Bulstrode to consider switching teams. Draco fought the urge to gnash his teeth in frustration. Finally Blaise shook his head. “No, I'm a married man with a daughter on the way.”

Draco looked around the shabby room doubtfully. “Really? And who is the girl who was finally good enough for your mother?”

“The one who was good enough for yours.” Blaise took another sip with a cat that ate the cream smile, but the humourous expression did not reach his eyes.

“Parkinson?” Draco laughed. “I'd love to see her. Is she about?”

The playfulness fell from Blaise's face. “No, she currently resides at St. Mungo's. She took one too many Crucios during the war.”

“But, she never fought... she never was a Death Eater.” Draco's voice was strident in its denial.

“Yes,” Zabini said through another sip of whisky. “But her father thought she should have been.”

“Christ.” Draco remembered the sweetly pretty girl laughing as he made a wry comment, the girl who commiserated with him about Potter and his ilk, the girl to whom he was unofficially betrothed until his fateful sixth year. “What happened, if you don't mind me asking?”

“Oh, you know the usual. Death Eaters want something; I decide they can't have it. Your father and Severus help us make our escape to Beauxbatons. My father-in-law and Nott find us... Blah, blah, blah.”

Zabini's eyes swept shut, his lashes glistening suspiciosly. u “She was acting as normally as could be expected the first day... after... but when we returned to England I noticed a change. She seemed less able to concentrate, more volatile. A few months after the battle, we left again. It helped for a while, then it got worse. I spent years travelling the world trying to find a cure for her, but then... her condition became unmanageable during her pregnancy. So, we returned and I took the first post I could find that would allow me to support her and conduct my research.”

He sighed and knocked back the rest of the amber liquid. “The baby is due in March and I'm hoping to resume her Muggle potions then. She's done the best with those, although I'm working with a promising Potions Master from the States on a more permanent solution.”

“I think I'll take that drink now.” Draco stood abruptly. He returned, sniffing the whisky, but not drinking. “You mentioned my father helped you.”

“I think that is something you need to speak to him about, Malfoy.” Zabini's composure rocked for a moment. “Now, give me the whisky. I don't want you to ruin five years of sobriety over me.”

It was in Draco's mind to slide back into his schooldays persona and whinge about his friend's comment, when Zabini asked, “So, nice choice of Godfather for your son. Very Slytherin, I might add.”

“Circe, isn't there anything about my life that's not fodder for gossip?” Draco handed the glass to his friend. “Where did you hear it from?”

“Longbottom,” Blaise answered, peering over the edge of the tumbler that Draco had just handed him. “He's not a bad sort, just loquacious when he's in his cups.”

“Ah, Blaise, you always make me hot when you use big words. Loquacious. Sounds like you've been hanging with Granger.” Draco was enjoying himself for the first time in years. It almost seemed as if the two men had never parted.

Zabini's smirk returned along with a very Slytherin quirk to the brow. “Yet, I'm not the one with unrequited love for the Mudblood. How did you ever get over your crush?”

“Shut it. I only told you that because she drove me mad.”

“She drove all of us mad,” Zabini said. “Just not in the ‘wanking off’ kind of way.”

“You know, she's why I asked Potter to be my son's Godfather.” Draco volunteered. “I reckoned that if such a good person could be friends with him, he must not be too bad. That and I bloody well don't want a Weasley male raising Scorpius.”

Zabini laughed aloud. “You utter sod, you still want her.”

Draco ducked his head, admitting softly, “Only a little.”

&*&*&

Liz made her way unsteadily to the room provided by the Headmaster. She followed something called a house elf, which looked like nothing more than a collection of leathery sticks, bat wings and tennis balls, all covered indecorously in a tea towel. She was shocked when it spoke to her in a whispery high voice, bidding her to follow and solicitously getting her tea. She wanted to like the thing that called itself Zippy, but did not know if she should trust it. Fairy stories were full of things that were described like this creature, but were evil. Look at Rumplestiltskin. She felt entirely more at ease when the thing popped out of her room after bidding her a goodnight.

She finished her tea and lay on the bed, looking at the ceiling. She had never slept in a real castle before. Sure, she had visited the Tower of London and other sites around the epicenter of her life, but a real, lived-in castle was so far outside her realm of experience that she just could not credit what she was seeing. She wished that Drake or Toby had stayed with her. They would make her feel more normal. 

The pain of the day threatened to well up again. The witch in hospital had given her something called a Calming Draught, and it had worked to a certain extent, but her feelings were so roiled right now, they were just below the surface. 

A soft knock sounded on the door. Liz fuzzily got up and weaved her way to the door. “Yes?”

“Ms. Cowell? It's Neville Longbottom, I'd like a word with you if I might have one?” His voice sounded muffled and distant. Liz was not sure if it was the wood door that separated them which made him sound like that, or the cotton wool in her head from the drugs the nurse had given her. 

She opened the door. “Come in, please. You'll have to pardon me, I'm a little... I know you now. You’re the bloke from the Alley. The one who trod on my foot.”

If it could be said that a man coloured prettily, Liz thought the Professor's reddened face might be the instance. “I do apologise. I dance quite well, if that helps.”

His round cheeks flushed even more and Liz laughed giddily. “Come in, Professor.”

She sat heavily in a seat by the fire, her legs splayed before her. The Professor waited for an invitation to be seated and she waved him over. “I'm so sorry, I seem to be a little drugged right now. I don't know what that woman gave me.”

“Oh, I didn't realise. Maybe I should come back tomorrow.” The round-faced man attempted to stand and Liz stopped him with a low whistle. He paused, staring at her puckered lips. He looked almost as if he might devour her where she sat.

She smiled, and knew the look was heavy-lidded and wicked. When she was younger, she’d practiced it. “Professor, why are you here?”

“I just came to offer my apologies and to ask a favour.” He licked his lips, reminding Liz of Draco. Her breathing became shallow at the thought of her friend. She did not know when she had begun to want him, just that at this moment, if he were here, she would have had him.

“Favour? Hmm. I think I'm fresh out of those right now.” Liz straightened in her seat, gathering her foggy wits. At his obvious look of disappointment, she relented. “What is it?”

“I've spoken with the Headmaster, and we would like you to share your experiences with the older students.” He winced as she stood. Heat suffused her face. “I don't mean the more personal acts, just the other aspects of the Muggle-baiting and then your rescue. Not many students know of Severus Snape's role in that aspect of his service, and we feel your story might help them be a little more sympathetic to other students in your son's situation as well as bolster the Slytherins’ position.”

“I think it's time you left, Professor,” she held herself stiffly. “I'll think about it, but I haven't even decided if my son is staying yet.”

&*&*&

Draco found Liz sitting on the Davenport before the fire in the small suite provided for them. She had been crying again. Draco slid onto the couch beside her, taking her in his arms. The noise of the fire crackling merrily was punctuated by Liz's erratic sniffs. Drowsily Liz said, “I've missed you.”

He knew he should plead ignorance, ask her what she meant; but he _did_ know. Instead, he kissed her eyelids, tasting the bitter saltiness of her tears, the citrus tang of her flesh. She sighed, lifting her face to his, her eyes dark and heavy-lidded. He continued kissing her, telling himself he used to kiss her all the time without meaning behind the action, but the rapid, tandem beating of their pulses made a lie of that. Desire pooled in the pit of his stomach, sending sharp arcs lower as he drew his lips across her dusky cheeks, down to her mouth. The kiss was chaste and undeniably erotic. 

She drew away, her expression blank. “Good night, Drake. It's been a long day.”

He stayed on the couch as she made her way to the bed. It had been a long day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading. Please take the time to let me know what you think.


	8. Chapter 8

Draco woke with a stiff neck from falling asleep on the couch. A blanket was draped over him, which he thrust back over the back of the divan. Liz must have gotten up sometime last night and tucked him in. The thought made him smile. 

Liz was already in the bathroom, so he took a few moments to gather himself before he faced her. He did not want to read anything into their kiss last night, but to him, it had felt right. He stretched, easing the kinks out of his shoulders. A soft knock sounded on the door and Draco went to it, hobbling a little as his legs spasmed. He drew it open to see Zabini's sheepish smile. “I took the liberty of bringing some clothes for Ms. Cowell. The robes are Pansy’s; they seem to be of like size. I also sent a house elf to Hogsmeade to get some smalls for the both of you.”

Draco took the pile of clothes from his blushing friend. “You're so attractive when you're thoughtful, Zabini. Come in, and I'll get Liz.”

“No, I've got to escort Mr. Cowell from the Infirmary. I thought you might like to join us in the Great Hall when you're ready,” the Professor demurred, and then cast a meaningful look at the couch, expressing curiosity and interest equally. Draco thumped the Professor on the arm with his fist, letting the nosy git know it was none of his concern. 

“I think I'll just have the house elves bring me something, but I'll send Liz.” Draco replied. 

Zabini snorted in response. “Are you afraid of children?”

“No. I just don't think it would strengthen Toby's position if he were seen eating breakfast with his Death Eater godfather.” Draco's stomach rolled uncomfortably at the thought of so many accusing eyes on him. 

“Don't be ridiculous, Drake,” Liz said, entering the room with a brief nod to Blaise. “You're almost tame now.”

Zabini chuckled. “I'll leave you to convince him, Ms. Cowell. I am well aware how powerful your brand of persuasion can be. I'll see you both in the Great Hall, or the Infirmary, whichever option you take, Draco.”

“I do apologise for that, Professor,” Liz blushed. “I hope your bits are fine.” 

Zabini just laughed and stalked away, his colour high. Draco shook his head as he shut the door and turned to his friend. “Liz, about last night... ”

“Drake, we don't need to talk about it. Okay?” Liz sighed. “We were both upset. Now, what's that you're holding?”

Draco thrust the packet of robes and the knickers purchase for her into her hands, as disappointment knifed through him. “Zabini brought these for you. He thinks they'll fit.”

“I suppose these clothes are a little ripe,” she grimaced. “Once I change, you'll be going to breakfast with me.”

“Since I have no choice in the matter,” Draco grumbled. “I still don't think it's a good idea for the boy to be seen with me.” 

Liz shot back as she re-entered the bathroom, “Don't be such a selfish prat, Draco. You're the closest thing to a father he has. He needs you to be there for him.”

&*&*&

Toby felt funny seeing his Mum and Uncle Drake outside the Great Hall. His Mum wore purply-red wizarding robes, a thing he'd never thought to see her in. She looked like she belonged here, with her hair all one pretty brown colour and no black junk around her eyes. Somehow, it made her look a little younger than he remembered her. Uncle Drake stood beside her, his arm around her as if he was trying to protect her. Toby had often wished that they would decide to marry each other, and for a moment, they looked like a proper Mum and Dad. His Mum smiled, the watery one she gave him when she was upset, and he shifted uncomfortably from left to right, wondering if Scorpi were here as well. He hoped so; he missed the little pest.

Professor Zabini propelled him forward with a little pat. The older wizard whispered, “Greet your mother, she's been very worried about you.”

Toby shuffled forward. He hoped his Mum was not too mad at him. He knew how she felt about him being in fights. He had never been in one, because she had said she would skin him alive if he ever was. Toby stopped before her, his eyes downcast. “I'm sorry, Mum.”

She leaned over, saying, “I'm not angry with you, little man, but after we eat, you and me, we need to talk.”

Toby's fears were not allayed. When his Mum said they needed to talk, he had usually done something he was going to get in trouble for. He nodded. “Yes, Mum.”

Toby bowed stiffly in greeting to Uncle Drake, who looked a little out of sorts. Toby had learned from dealing with the other Slytherins, that a direct approach wasn't always best, so he asked, “Uncle, I hope Scorpi is well?'

His Uncle nodded, a small expression of approval at the approach his Godson took lit his eyes. “We were unable to bring him this time. You'll see him during the holidays. He does miss you.”

That made Toby feel much better. He slipped his hand into his mother's. “Mum, the Hall is through here.”

As they entered the Great Hall, Toby remembered that he had been awed by the magical ceiling on his first visit. He thought his Mum would like it. “Mum, look up.”

She sounded perplexed and excited all at once. “Are we outside?”

Toby looked up at her upturned face. She was having him on, he could tell from the tight little smile that hovered around her lips. He rolled his eyes. “Mum!

She laughed then and things seemed to shift back to almost normal. Toby noted that several of the older Slytherin boys were looking at his Mum and smiling. He could tell they thought she was pretty. It made him feel squirmy and proud at the same time. Professor Zabini asked them to clear a spot for their little party, and four Seventh year boys jumped up.

One, a very good-looking boy who had a reputation as a lady's man, simpered, “Please, take my seat, Madam Cowell, I would be honored.”

Toby could see Uncle Drake stifling a laugh behind his hand and his mum cast his uncle a sharp look. “How nice. Thank you.”

She flounced down on the chair, reminding Toby of Victoire for a moment. He had never seen his Mum act like such a girl before, and didn’t think he liked it. As Uncle Drake pushed in her chair for her, Toby noticed his uncle was looking at her differently than he used to. Instead of just glancing at her when they spoke, his uncle's gaze seemed to be lingering on her face, as if he wanted something from her that she was not giving him. His Mum had a different attitude too. She was darting glances at Uncle Drake and alternately blushing or scowling when he spoke to her. Toby was going to have to think about this, he wasn’t sure what was going on between them, and it rather scared him. He hoped, whatever it was, that they would still be friends when it was over. 

Toby glanced at Professor Zabini, who was smiling broadly at the two adults. The boy prodded a sausage that had appeared on his plate, feeling out of sorts. He wanted things to go back to what he was used to. He had had enough changes for a while. Somehow, he knew all this new strangeness was his fault.

&*&*&

Liz wanted to run away when she saw her son. Only Drake's steadying arm kept her from bolting down the hall and out into the meadow she had only glanced at through a window when they entered the castle the night before. Her heart was racing throughout the ample breakfast, and she still had not decided whether Toby would be leaving with her today, or not. Drake had suggested that she ask what he might like to do, so that would be the first thing she did, but every one of the motherly senses that she had developed over the last eleven years were screaming for her to grab her son and never let him out of her sight. 

It did not help her nerves that the Professor she had kicked in the meat and vegs last night was practically sniggering at Drake and her as they ate. She scowled at her friend as he said something slightly off-colour. She wondered what the two over-grown boys had been talking about last night, and why the Professor was so interested in the two of them this morning. She resolved to have a few words with the blond wanker when they left here. 

She looked up at the table at the head of the room and noted with some discomfort the interested looks from Professor Longbottom. She vaguely remembered flirting with him the previous evening, after the nurse had given her the drugs to calm her down. Liz was an outrageous flirt when she was high, one of the reasons she stayed away from all forms of intoxicants around other people. Shit, she must have made an impression on him, and it must have been a very good one, or bad, depending on the perspective. She should probably apologise, but didn’t know if she had the nerve. Eleven years and she hadn’t had one man interested in her, not that she had wanted one to be most of that time, and now she could not swing a cat and miss them. Not that she was complaining, much. 

Drake's kiss had kept her awake a long time. She tried not to read anything into it, but it had felt right, somehow. They had been friends so many years, that it was a little surprising to her. Not that she wanted him to think he could go on shagging Her, and then fool around with her, Liz, too. Liz was not a woman-on-the-side kind of girl. If he thought he could pull that, he had another thing coming. Liz Cowell was _not_ her mother, to put up with a cheating dog of a man.

Drake's knee brushed hers and a jolt of awareness went through her, settling in the vicinity of her knickers. She felt herself scowl again. She was such a silly chit, reading so much into a kiss. She needed to speak to Father Cavanaugh about this; both him and the counsellor she had been seeing for the last year. She wanted to cover all the bases before she considered what she would do about her friend or any others that came along. 

The nasty little voice in her head said, _Yeah right, you’ve been beatin' 'em off with sticks for years. Not bloody likely anyone else will want to kiss you, much less do anything else, you daft cow._

All too soon, breakfast was over and the time Liz had been dreading was upon her.

&*&*&

Draco was surprised when Liz insisted that he join her to her talk with Toby. The last thing he wanted to do was be in on that particular conversation. He thought guiltily that he had seen enough at Malfoy Manor when it had happened. He did not want to see the boy’s secure world shatter when she told him about his father. He followed behind them reluctantly. 

The first time he had seen Liz was when Uncle Rodolphus had dragged her into the hall by a tether: she wore the rags he had left her after his weeklong brutalisation of her. He had tried to break her by forcing her to lick his boots. Draco had been nauseous at the reaction of his body to the barely-clothed girl. He attempted to leave, but was forced to stay and act as if he were enjoying the girl's degradation, even as his body betrayed him. Fenrir Greyback held him by the arm, his mouth twisted into a cruel parody of a smile. The werewolf leered, “By that bulge in your pants, I can see you like the show, don't you boy? Maybe next time we'll get you a Muggle plaything of your own. Your uncle and I can teach you how to treat them.”

Lucius had stood on to his other side, and Draco had been disgusted by his father's tacit approval of the spectacle and the disgusting creature's words. Draco was aching for release as he shifted uncomfortably, trying to suppress the arousal he felt at seeing his first nearly nude female. 

When his uncle failed to achieve the reaction he desired from Liz, he had struck her repeatedly. Her wails fell to an ominous silence, and Lucius grabbed his son in a vice-like grip by the neck, and dragged him to his own luxurious chambers. The older Malfoy backhanded him, once, across the face, hard enough that Draco had seen stars, and then strode out, locking and warding the door behind him. To this day, Draco did not understand what had prompted that reaction from his father.

Draco's attention returned to the present as they came to the chambers they had been in the previous evening. Liz led her son to the couch, her emotions betrayed by the blank control she had over her expression. Draco took the seat opposite the two, feeling ill at ease. She took a deep breath and began, “First son, I want you to know that I love you, no matter what anyone says about you, or me, or Uncle Drake.”

Toby paled, but remained silent. Liz put her arm around her son, pulling his small body to her. “You know you've never met your father, and that's why I want to talk to you today. When I was young, some bad men came and took me away.”

“Death Eaters? That's who those Gryffindors said was my dad.” Toby said, his voice flat. “That's why you got so mad at Uncle Drake that time?”

Liz nodded, casting a pained look at Draco. “Yeah, that's why. One Death Eater forced me to have sex with him, and he made me pregnant with you. We were at Uncle Drake's house when this happened, and a man named Lucius, and a man named Severus Snape rescued me.”

Draco felt his heart racing. Lucius Malfoy had helped a Muggle? His resolve to speak to his father strengthened. He would contact the Ministry for a visitor's pass as early as he could Monday morning.

Turning his attention back to the matter at hand, he wondered if his friend knew Draco, himself, had been present during her ordeal. He thought, guiltily of his reaction again. He closed his eyes against the image, trying to seal it from her knowing gaze. Once under control, he looked back at the two on the couch. Toby asked, his tone flat, “If you were in Uncle Drake's house, was Uncle Drake there?”

“I don't know.” Liz cast an anguished look in her friend's direction. “I believe he was, son, but he was young, like me, then. He couldn't help me.” 

“But I should have.” The words came out of Draco's mouth involuntarily; they pulled at his throat like barbed wire through a tight hole. “Toby, I should have been brave enough to rescue your mother, but I wasn't. I was afraid. The man who hurt your mother was my Uncle, and he would have killed me in a very horrible way. I was scared of the pain. I'm sorry.”

“I was afraid yesterday.” Toby whispered angrily. “I tried to help anyway.”

“Toby,” Liz said sharply, “you will not speak in that way to your Uncle. Those boys that hurt you, were only trying to cause you pain. Drake's Uncle was evil. He would have...”

Liz cast about for the magical terms to use, when Draco interjected, “He would have used Unforgivables on me and on my parents before he killed all of us, including your mother.”

The boy frowned. The only noise in the room was the cheery crackling fire. Liz sighed gustily. “I guess I should have told you before you came here. That way, when someone said something, you wouldn't be surprised.”

“I wasn't.” Toby said, finally, his voice soft. “I'm not the only one whose dad was bad. Rose Alston and her brother, they told me what their mother said about their dad. She said they were bad like him, that it was in their blood. It's not true is it? I'm not bad like him, am I?”

Draco moved to his Godson, squatting on the floor by his legs. “Do you think that? Do you think your friend and her brother are bad?”

“N-no sir.” Toby's eyes were bright with unshed tears, and he snuffled into his sleeve. Draco thought that it must be a family trait, handing the cleansed handkerchief from the night before to his godson.

“Good.” Draco looked at Liz as he said, “Don't let anyone tell you who you are. Don't let anything that happens to you make you think less of yourself.”

“Good advice, Draco Malfoy. Maybe we should all take it,” Liz answered with a flick of her eyes to his face. “So, I guess we need to get you back to your House so you can study. You do want to stay, don't you?”

Toby smiled, “Yes, Mum, I have friends that are like me here. I belong.”

Mother and son stood and walked towards the door. Liz turned around, expectantly. “Drake, are you coming?”

'Yeah, Uncle Drake, I want you to see the castle. I hear it's changed a lot since you were in school all those years ago.”

Draco stood, feeling slightly off-center. “Yes, all those long, ancient years ago.”

Liz took Draco's hand with a soft squeeze, and they left to explore the final resting place of his childhood.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading. Please take the time to let me know what you think.


	9. Chapter 9

Salvation

Chapter 9

Toby walked ahead of the two adults, gesturing with the charming self-importance that only a child possesses, as he pointed out several of the changes wrought after the war that he had been shown by the older Slytherins. Draco made the appropriate noises of admiration as they walked behind him, but he really watched the boy's mother. Her exhalations of awe and admiration were endearing. What was so commonplace to Draco, and now the boy, the moving portraits, the sly, trick stairs, the Weasley bog, all brought expressions of childlike wonder to her face. He slipped his hand in hers, noting the fluttering of her lashes and her down swept eyes. She squeezed his fingers once and let them go, catching up with her son. 

When they came to the entrance, Professor Lepidus was waiting for them. Draco was struck by the almost Dumbledore-like calm of the man. Physically, the two men were dissimilar. Where Dumbledore was wizened, almost gaunt, Lepidus had the fleshiness of middle age. His hair was light brown, streaked with the beginnings of silver, his eyes were brown and he had no beard. However, there was something about the man that put Draco both at ease and made him wary at the same time. The man was clearly well suited for his position as Headmaster. He greeted them warmly. “Mr. Cowell, I hope you are feeling well this morning?”

The boy gaped momentarily before he recovered, making it obvious that he had never been addressed by the Headmaster personally. “Yes sir, thank you. May I present my Mother and Godfather? Ms. Elspeth Cowell and Mr. Draco Malfoy, this is Professor Lepidus. He's the Headmaster here.”

The man smiled, his eyes twinkling merrily. “I'm honoured to meet both of you.”

Draco mouthed to Liz, _“Elspeth?”_

“Shut it, Malfoy,” Liz murmured as she extended her hand to the Headmaster. “I'm glad to meet you more formally. I am sorry about the disturbance I caused last night.”

The Headmaster waved his hand laconically before clasping hers. “No harm done, Ms. Cowell, I understand perfectly. If it had been one of my own, my reaction, no doubt, would have been the same.”

“Without the knock to Zabini's family crest, I'm sure,” Draco said, trying to keep the hint of laughter out of his words. When Lepidus coughed softly, Draco suggested, “Elspeth, maybe we ought to continue our tour?”

Liz glared at her friend, and, under the guise of brushing off a bit of fluff from his robes, pinched him. Lepidus looked on, a small smile hovering around his lips. “Actually, Mr. Malfoy, I was sent, by a very insistent portrait, in search of you. I think Mr. Cowell and I can show his mother around, if you'd like to make your way to my office. The password is _Inu Yasha._ ” 

Draco's mood plummeted. Had Snape finally deigned to speak? Or worse, was it Dumbledore? He heard Toby, as if from a great distance, say excitedly, “I know that show. I love to watch it when I'm home. Do you like other anime, sir?”

Liz moved aside as the older wizard and Toby discussed the finer points of anime versus manga. “Drake, are you all right? You went all white… well, whiter… for a minute. Do you need to sit down?'

“No… no, I'm fine,” he said, clearing the choking feeling from his throat. “You go along with them, I’ll… ah… be fine.”

He turned to Lepidus, waiting pointedly for a break in the conversation. When the Headmaster turned his attention away from the boy, he smiled at Draco. “I'll bring them up to my office when we finish our tour.” The Headmaster crooked his arm for Liz and she took it with obvious reluctance. Draco watched them go, wishing for the chance to just vanish, to seep into the ground, like the toxic sludge he had been as a child at this school. Liz was peering back at him worriedly as the small group rounded the corner and disappeared from his sight.

The trip to the Headmaster's office was filled with dread, and as he spoke the strange words to the gargoyle, he felt an uneasy sense of finality. The stairs started upwards and the Slytherin placed his feet on the path.

He did not know what he expected to find when he entered the office, but it was not the absolute silence that greeted him. Anytime he had been there before, there was always some portrait making a comment or snoring a little too falsely. He looked around at the frames that lined the walls. Only two were occupied, Severus, in his monkish costume, caught his eye first. 

To Draco, the portrait remained static, but it seemed off, as if it had changed since he last saw it. He inspected it closely. The artist had not caught the caged-animal feel of Snape, his boundless nervous energy, and the strain that had marked his final days on the planet. In this portrayal, the man was softer. His mouth was not set in the familiar grim line, and the crevasses that marred his brow and the corners of his mouth were absent. His sallow skin now glowed warmly, as if he had been in a sunny location. Upon closer inspection, Snape looked almost _happy._ Draco hoped that Snape had, in the end, finally found the peace that was portrayed in his final picture. The man truly deserved it. 

The blond man turned reluctantly to the only other occupied frame. Albus Dumbledore was waiting patiently for Draco's attention. The portrait ventured, “I take it that the image is not in compliance with your memory of Severus.”

Draco swallowed, the small pop of his Adam's apple moving up and down his dry throat resounded in the quiet room. “No, sir. I don't remember him ever being so peaceful or happy-looking. Potter really should have chosen a better artist to commemorate him.”

The silence spun out again, a silver thread of unease. Finally, Dumbledore spoke, “Young Malfoy, I’ve followed your progress over the last twelve years. You've done well.”

Draco attempted to interrupt, but the old man continued. “I don't mean just materially. You've done a great deal of good since you were released, and touched many lives that were destroyed by Tom Riddle. I'm proud of you.”

Draco considered the words. “Sir, when I was a young man at this school, I would have been gratified to hear those words from you.” Draco took a deep breath to slow the frantic beating of his heart. “Now, they seem hollow, somehow, knowing what and who had to be sacrificed to end the war. Tell me, did you make any provisions for Severus? Had he lived, would he have been consigned to the same fate as my father and mother?”

“You know what your parents did for the Order?” Dumbledore whispered. Draco attempted to master his expression so that the shock of the admission would not show. His parents had never worked for the Order of the Phoenix. As far as he could remember, Lucius had scorned anything to do with Albus Dumbledore and his organization. Another piece of a very interesting puzzle lay before him, and he would find out the truth. 

“No, but I'm beginning to piece it together. Why don't you tell me?” Draco _Accio_ 'ed a chair from beside the fireplace. He was damned curious now. “Please, enlighten me on exactly what my parents did for the Order, and why you failed to protect them?”

The portrait Dumbledore's face fell, losing the twinkle in its eyes. “I'm sorry, I took a Wizard's Oath...”

“Don't give me that, sir. You know a Wizard's Oath has no power over a magically enhanced collection of pigments, oil and turpentine.” Draco folded his arms over his chest as he flopped gracelessly into the chair. Employing his best Malfoy hauteur, he commanded, “You can talk, now tell me.”

Dumbledore's portrait pursed his lips, and then drew a deep breath, as if to speak, when a new voice filled the room. “Don't do it Albus. You know what the agreement was and you assured all involved that you would abide by it.”

Draco's eyes darted to the unmoving Snape picture before he realised another portrait had entered the fray. Dumbledore spoke over the cautionary figure's words. “Phineas, the boy needs to know what they did for him.”

The sour-faced portrait huffed, “That's why one can never trust a Gryffindor. All their honour flies in the face of noble intent. Albus, if you do this, I won't be responsible for the father's actions.”

“As if you would ever be,” Dumbledore mumbled, and then turned to Draco saying, “He is correct, however, in his assessment that the story is one for your father to tell you, young man. I am sorry. I will say, that I did have a plan for Severus.”

Draco folded his arms over his chest. “I should have known that dealing with your portrait would be no better than speaking to you in life. And I will say, that I'm sorry I tried to kill you.”

“Ho, ho, Albus, the little snake means he's sorry he didn't succeed,” the one called Phineas said.

Draco pointed his wand at the other portrait. “Don't put words in my mouth, or I will charm the paint from your canvas.” With a squeak, the offending portrait vanished from the frame. He turned back to Dumbledore. “I relive that year and the next in my nightmares. If my mother hadn't been threatened, I never would have done what I did. I never would have compromised my Godfather's soul. For that, I apologise.” 

Dumbledore smiled sadly. “The war made us all do things we wouldn't normally have done. There is nothing for me to forgive. Maybe you should try to forgive yourself.”

The silence spun out again, an aching throb that beat with the rhythm of Draco's heart. Finally the Slytherin spoke, “Does he ever move?”

“Not since the day he arrived,” the old wizard said, the twinkle returning to his cerulean eyes. “Young Malfoy, not all things are what they seem.”

Draco felt an adrenal spurt, very much the same as the time he had, in his ignorance, touched a Muggle electrical outlet. His heart rate fluttered erratically, and his nerves jangled in painful syncopation. “Sir, what do you mean?”

“Ah, I think I hear the approach of your Ms. Cowell. Lovely woman, she would make someone a fine wife.” 

Liz, Toby and Lepidus entered as Dumbledore fell into feigned sleep. Draco ground his teeth in frustration. As any well-bred Slytherin would, Draco masked his agitation, rose gracefully from his seat, and replaced the chair to its spot in front of the fire in one smooth motion. He greeted Liz with a small kiss on the cheek and tousled his Godson's hair. “I take it the tour was to your liking?”

&*&*&

As Drake and Liz returned to the room to prepare to leave, she reflected on the conversation she had with the affable Headmaster during her tour of the Slytherin Common Room. Toby had run up to his rooms to fetch his latest papers from Potions and Defence, when the Professor cast a spell about them dimming the noise in the room. “Don't worry, my dear, I've cast a silencing charm so that the students don't hear us. I wanted to talk with you of Professor Longbottom's plan of speaking to the students.”

Liz, in the bustle of the day, had almost forgotten about it. “I don't feel comfortable doing that, Mr. Lepidus. The things that happened to me were very... I just think it would make my son the object of pity and even more ridicule.” 

“Certainly,” the Professor had said. “I just thought that, given the identity of your rescuers, you might be able to help.”

Liz knew he was disappointed from the drawn look on his face. She continued, attempting to keep the strained hoarseness from her voice. “I've only spoken of what happened to my priest and a counsellor. I'm sorry, it's just too personal for me to speak of publicly.”

The Professor waved his wand and the room had soared to full volume again. “Of course. I'm sorry to have distressed you, Ms. Cowell.”

Draco sat on the couch in his rumpled clothes, his demeanor somber. Liz folded the robes that had been loaned to her, and placed them on the bed, after Draco's assurance that the house elves would return them to Professor Zabini. Her friend's eyes followed her motion. “Liz?”

Placing her hands on her hips, she asked, somewhat more acerbically than she intended, “What, no more Elspeth?”

When he did not rise to her bait, she moved behind him, placing her hands on his stiff shoulders. “What is it Drake?”

As she began rubbing, he moaned softly. “I'm sorry.”

“About what?” 

She paused, pulling a long strand of hair out of her way. Sometime she felt he was still just a boy, so emotionally fragile that she could read his thoughts on the think skin that covered his brow. She smoothed back his hair, loose now from the tight queue in which he usually kept it. “Drake, if this is about your Uncle, don't worry about it. He's not you.”

“I'm not so sure about that.” He sighed, a ponderous sound in the cheery room, as he scooted away from her grasp. “It's time we left. I have to pick up Scorpius and I'm sure you have things you want to do.”

They made their way to the entry in silence. Drake had told her they would Floo from a place called the Hog's Head because he did not want to inconvenience the Headmaster further. Liz thought it had more to do with the mad portrait he had spoken to, but she kept her own counsel. Toby had said his goodbyes earlier, in the privacy of the Headmaster's chambers, but Liz was still disappointed that she would not be seeing him before she left. 

On the final staircase, she saw the tension increase in Draco's already taut body. At the foot of the stairs stood Harry Potter and his wife Ginny. Liz waved shyly at the redhead. She noted with interest, the way Draco slipped on a jovial mask, saying in a sly voice, “Potty, Ginevra, what brings you here?”

Ginny gasped, looking with consternation at the blond, before her husband answered, “Nothing much Ferret, I just thought we'd show a little House solidarity during Hogsmeade weekend.”

“I can see you learned your showmanship from Dumbledore,” Draco jibed.

The dark-haired man laughed dryly, “No, Snape. I just didn't wear the proper robes.”

The three wizards sniggered, leaving Liz feeling out of place. Potter spoke again, “Ian couldn't take care of Scorpius last night, there was a newintake at the shelter, and so we took him. Molly is with him and our children at the Burrow. We thought we'd take you two to elevenses at the Three Broomsticks before we swing by to pick them up.”

“Sure, Potter, I'll just waltz in to Rosemerta's pub and laugh over old times,” Draco shot back.

Liz winced at his snotty tone. She hated it when he went all posh and used it as a weapon. It made her feel worse than she usually did about herself.

Ginny laughed, “There's always Madam Puddifoot's.”

Both men groaned at her suggestion before she added, “Come on, Malfoy. She forgave you as soon as she found out about how Voldemort threatened your family. She even spoke at your trial.”

“Oh, holy Christ, we’ll go. But you can bring Scorpius to my flat. No offense, Weasley, but your mother scares me,” Drake said, a smirk replacing the scowl he had worn since his trip to the Headmaster's office.

The redhead shook her head. “None taken, as long as I don't have to meet your Dad at the Department of Mysteries anytime soon.”

Drake's eyes flashed dangerously. “Remind me, Potter, never to spar with your wife again. She's quite vicious. No offense.”

The couple spoke in unison. “None taken.”

Drake extended his arm to Liz, inclining his head imperiously. “Come, Elspeth, we're going to tea.”

“Shut it Drake, or I'll tell them how much you love your middle name.” Liz laughed as he placed his hand over her mouth.

“Really?” Ginny's voice rose to almost supersonic pitch, “What is it?”

Liz could only mumble against her friend's hand as he answered, “None of your bloody business.”

“Must be murder to fill out forms with a name like that,” Potter said as they made their way outside. “What could your parents have been thinking?”

They walked to Hogsmeade, laughter punctuating the conversation. For a moment, they were almost like the carefree teens surrounding them, not the adult survivors of enemy camps, or victims of a war. Liz knew she should enjoy the freedom while she could. Monday would bring her back to her lonely adult existence. She joined in the laughter, wishing that her life could have ever been like this, even before that night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading. Please take the time to let me know what you think.


	10. Chapter 10

As far as Liz could tell, things hadn't changed since their trip to Hogwarts three weeks ago, except the frequency of Drake's trips to see Her. Every afternoon now, Drake headed out alone for his lunch, and every afternoon he came back in the same foul mood. His physical affection had increased to Liz, with the little touches and pecks that drove her mad. He had not tried to kiss her again, however. It left her feeling confused and put upon. 

_At least he doesn't smell like Her anymore,_ she thought with a grimace. Liz had harboured some fond hopes after that weekend jaunt and the sweet kiss that things would be different between them when they returned to London. She supposed she should just face the fact that her friend would never see her as anything other than one of the boys. She sighed, blowing the wispy fringe that the hairstylist had insisted she would love out of her eyes. 

He entered the office that morning with a sunny attitude for once. As he sorted through the mail on her desk he asked, “Hey, kid, I’ve an appointment this afternoon. Could you pick Scorpius up from playschool, please?”

“Sure, Drake,” she answered, a little put out that he would ask her for a favour. Before her traitorous brain could edit her words, Liz added, “I hope she's not becoming too demanding.”

“What was that? Oh, we need to send this to the Ministry. It's been misdirected,” Draco said absently as he pushed an envelope towards her. “Here's an invitation to the Hogwarts Yule ball. I suppose we'll have to go. So, will you? I'll owe you, say, a nice dinner out sometime?”

“I already said I would,” she snapped over the sharp pain that lanced through her heart. _Damn him._

Drake looked up from his task, his brows raised in query. “Are you all right? You've seemed a little off these last few days. You know, not your usual cheerful self. It's not Toby again, is it?”

“No, Draco Malfoy, it's most definitely not Toby. Why don't you just leave now? I wouldn't want you to be late for _Her_ ,” she snarled, unable to control her temper any longer. “I'd just like to know what you're playing at. I never knew you were such a... a pig!” She slammed the cover over her typewriter. “I'm taking the morning off. Go see Her on your own time.”

Liz had an impression of Drake's gap-jawed shock as she left the room. After fumbling for her coat, she slammed the door behind her, wincing as the glass pane rattled. Once outside, she took a few gulps of the mid-November chill into her lungs so she could concentrate on anything but being outraged. She knew she had overreacted, but it had not been just a kiss to her. It obviously had been to him. 

As she dashed away the angry tears threatening to fall rebelliously down her cheeks, she felt like she was in school again. Liz was cast one more time in the role of the scraggly, socially awkward, East-Ender after the poshest, most popular boy in school. The rejection had hurt when she was a child, but Drake was supposed to be her friend, and that was what stung the most. For the first time since Toby was born, she just wanted to run home to her mum for a good cry. She needed her no-nonsense comfort and the mug of hot cocoa she always seemed to produce when Liz was at her lowest. Mum would not be awake for hours however, and Liz knew that she would not welcome the intrusion for such a trivial matter. 

She found herself wandering in the markets along the Thames, fishmongers and workmen stopping to whistle at her or curse her, sometimes both. The air was redolent with the odour of the city's underbelly. The essence of fish, shit, and flowers with a hint of lime mixed to remind Liz of her position in the universe. No place in London smelled quite like the poor area of the East End in which she had struggled to adulthood. She stooped to pick up a shell that had been carelessly discarded by a vendor. Its nacreous inner surface glimmered, giving her a vague sense of continuity. Beauty in the mundane, much like herself. Liz snorted and rolled her eyes at the joke, drawing stares from an old man who trundled a small cart filled with offal and viscera. The anger she had felt slowly turned to icy numbness as the tears no longer threatened to spill over her lashes. 

She stopped at a street vendor to purchase some roasted chestnuts when a vaguely familiar voice said, “Ms. Cowell, is that you?” 

She turned to see the sweetly smiling face of the Gryffindor Professor from Toby's school. “Professor Longbottom, isn't it?”

“I was hoping I made a better impression than that,” his face fell in mock consternation. 

Liz felt herself blush as the vendor said, “Are yeh buyin' or not, girl? I've got others waitin'.”

She stepped away from the cart, but Longbottom did not and she trod squarely on his foot with her stilettoed heel. The Professor laughed; a musical chuckle that reminded Liz of Father Christmas in agony. He hopped on one foot as he clutched the offended appendage. “I suppose that makes us even. You know, your toe for the hole through my foot?”

When she did not smile, he caught her arm. “Are you all right? You seem to be near tears.” 

“I do apologise,” Liz said as she gave a watery smile. She did not know for which offence she was apologising, but she felt remorse regardless.

The young man produced a handkerchief, a plain white cotton square, both serviceable and elegant. He dabbed at her eyes, as if she was a wayward child, until she took the square from his hand. He waited patiently, his round face registering his concern by the small frown lines that formed between his eyebrows. She finally said, “You look different in regular clothes.”

“Oh, yes. I suppose you've only seen me in my robes.” He patted her upper arm hesitantly. “I have to get back to Hogwarts soon. I ordered some plants for the greenhouse, and the delivery was delayed until today, but would you care to have a cup of tea with me before I pick them up?”

“I really should get back to work. If I have a job still, that is. I sort of walked out,” Liz explained, feeling her lip tremble.

The Professor took her hand and guided her to a dingy pub. As they seated themselves at the bar, he asked with a hard-edged tone, “It wasn't something Malfoy did, was it?”

Liz did not feel like answering. Of course, it was something he did, but it was really her fault for reaching out of her class. She sighed gustily, blowing her fringe out of her eyes one more time. “It's nothing.”

They sat in stilted silence for a few moments, the Professor humming along with the ubiquitous drinking song playing in the background. Once the Irish tea they had ordered arrived, Liz turned to Neville. “I grew up not far from here. My mum still lives in the little flat we had when I was a child. Where are you from, Professor?”

“Please, call me Neville.” The blush that stole up the back of his neck charmed Liz. He stared into his cup of tea for a moment before answering shyly, “I'm from Lancastershire, a little village not far from Blackpool.”

The conversation stuttered, then Liz forced out, “I've heard it's lovely up there. I've only been to Hogwarts and Wiltshire so far.”

“Oh, it wasn't a… _that_ type of village. Just a regular one.” Neville shot a nervous glance around the room.

“No, Pro… Neville, I mean I've only traveled outside London twice,” Liz confided; she felt sure that even though the Professor and Drake went to the same school, Neville was not as posh as her blond friend was. After an awkward pause she volunteered, “You can call me Liz. If you want.”

The blush that had been contained at his jumper's collar rushed to the young Professor's cheeks. He sipped his tea, grimacing as he realized it contained whiskey. “I suppose it was a happy accident that I ran into you, Ms. Co… Liz. I was going to contact you at your office later this week. I was wondering if you had heard that Hogwarts is having a Yule ball this year.”

“Yes,” Liz replied quietly, wishing now that she had not been so quick to spend so much of her savings on clothes for herself. She should have known her son would need things like fancy clothes. She might be able to get a loan from her mother, but she would have to budget the amount to pay her back out of her barely adequate salary. “Does Toby need some dress clothes?”

“I'm going about this all wrong. I was going to ask if you'd allow me to escort you to the ball.” The young man's face was almost aubergine from embarrassment. “The entire staff and adjuncts have been invited... I just thought --”

“Yes,” the word practically flew from Liz's mouth, without considering the ramifications. She deserved to have fun. “I'd love to go with you.”

&*&*&

Draco heard when Liz returned. He had spent the last several hours alternating between joy and outright euphoria. She was jealous. If ever an angry outburst from his friend had made Draco happy, it was this one. 

Of course, he had spent the first hours after they had returned from Hogwarts tracking down Patil. He had broken off the sexual whatever-it-was when he found her. The Healer had cried the appropriate tears of recrimination, acted wounded and generally made herself as annoying as possible. Maybe he should have let her think she was breaking it off with him. He was still a Slytherin, born and bred, and he could have pulled it off. He found, however, that he did not have the energy or desire to placate the daft cow. He just wanted to be shot of her scorn and his near adultery. 

His last three weeks had been spent tracking down leads on his parents activities during the last year of the “Voldiewar” as it was being called in the press. He had spent his lunch hours interviewing the thirty or so women who had been moved about England, Ireland, and Northern France. The women had detailed the landscape around the safe houses, and Draco had finally been able to pinpoint several of the locations from their descriptions. Surprisingly, he had recognised most as properties held by his mother as part of her marriage settlement from the Black family.

The Dark Lord had demanded that Draco's mother allow him use of her properties when he was setting up his war machine during Lucius' unfortunate incarceration for the Ministry debacle. His mother had claimed that the properties had been sold long before, when her husband had been detained after the first war. She was punished for her failure to foresee the despot's need, but not severely. The stupid half-blood had not realised that Narcissa's holdings were hereditary. They could not be sold, only passed to a person of the Black bloodline. 

After an exhaustive search of the records, Draco found a transfer of the properties to one Sirius Black, killed by his cousin's own hand, two months before the Dark Lord's request. Snape and Dumbledore had signed their names as witnesses to the transaction. Rufus Scrimgeour had placed the seal.

His meeting today was with Hermione Granger-Weasley. She was in charge of the court records for the Death Eater trials at the end of the war. He was not looking forward to the interview. He knew he had a great deal for which to make up to her. He cringed at the thought of all the taunting to which he had subjected her over the years of their schooling. He had only sought to crush his desire for the unacceptable female, not destroy her spirit. The effect of her anger every time he taunted her had been electric to him, sending his senses into an erotic overload.

Looking back at the boy he was, he could recognise the masochistic tendencies he had possessed. In his confusion over the coolly asexual, pureblooded exterior his Mother and Father exhibited, he was confounded by his rampant desire for the forbidden, passionate Muggle-born witch. He felt he should be punished for his desire. When she had struck him in third year, his fantasy had been fuelled even further, and his torture of the girl had been given an exhilarating reward. He hoped he would not have to explain all of this to her. He was embarrassed by his childish psychological aberration.

He waited for Liz to settle into her work before he confronted her. The familiar squeak of her chair was his cue, and as he smoothed his hands over his robes, he prepared himself mentally for the battle he was sure would ensue. His hand was nearly to the doorknob when Liz opened the door, startling him. Only his quick reflexes saved him from a broken nose. He shouted in frustration, “Merlin, Liz, knock before you barrel into a room.”

Her expression hardened, “I'm sorry, sir. I didn't realise you'd be spying on me. I just came to say I'm back. You can go see your girlfriend now.”

She turned on her heel, stomped back to her desk and flounced gracefully into the chair. Draco felt a smile creep over his features as he stole to her. He stopped behind his friend, intoxicated by her scent. He brushed his hand lightly over her hair, enjoying the sleek feel of it under his palm. She stiffened as she said with a breaking voice, “Draco, don't touch me. I can't stand it right now.”

He lowered his hand to her shoulder and stooped to place his lips by her ear. He noted the chill-blains that formed as his breath caressed her cheek. “I know you're angry with me.”

“It's your life; you can sleep with whomever you want.” Liz gave him a disdainful shrug. “I'm sorry I walked out this morning.”

Draco inhaled her essence, part London, part flowery musk, and all woman. “Liz, look at me.”

She slanted her face to his, brushing her hair across his lightly stubbled cheek. “What do you want, Drake? I have work to see to, and you have people to do.”

He chuckled as he brushed his lips over her ear. “Kid, I broke it off with Patil three weeks ago. I've just been waiting for you to say something to me, let me know you were interested. I didn't want to rush you into anything.”

His friend gave a strangled, sobbing laugh. “I guess you should have said something sooner.”

“I should have, you're right.” He frowned. “I just didn't want to make you feel...”

Liz scooted away from him, her body tense. “You didn't want to make me feel what? Desirable? Worthy? Well, guess what? I have a date, so your little sincere act is just too little and too late.”

Draco rocked back on his heels. “Oh. So when's the wedding going to be?”

“Don't be ridiculous. It's just a date,” Liz spat.

Draco had not employed his hurt little boy look in years, but thought the situation warranted it. He inclined his head pitifully. “So, I still have a chance with you?”

A nervous sounding laugh tore from Liz's throat. “Oh, sod off you daft prick.”

Draco moved to her, and placed his arms around her. “Okay, have your date, but when it's over, know that you will be mine.”

He bent to kiss her, noticing the flattering way her lips sought his. The kiss started out chaste, as it had been a Hogwarts, but soon Draco sought and found deeper intimacy as his tongue tasted first, her lips then her mouth. Liz seemed to melt into him as he drew her closer; her low moan almost undid him. He broke from her, trying to slow the rapid beating of his heart. 

“I'm sorry, I didn't mean for that to happen,” he whispered. Mortification over his arousal swept through him, and he scrambled back from her.

Liz sat at her desk, her head bowed. “Thanks, mate. That was a nice way to make me feel wanted.”

He began, “I'm sor -”

“If that's an apology, keep it to yourself,” Liz spat, a hateful blush stealing across her cheeks and down her neck. “I am so sick of you apologising for everything anyone you've ever known has done. I'm not made of glass just because I got raped. You can be a real person around me, and I won't fall to pieces.”

Draco touched her cheek. “I suppose you aren't fragile, but I want to make you feel... hell, I don't know what I want with you. I just want... you, but I can't forget what I was... what I did.”

“I remind you of that time,” Liz nodded, as she chewed the inside of her cheek. “I understand, but you can't view me as some project or penance that's been assigned to you, like you did Tish. I need someone that wants me as I am, not on some pedestal.”

Liz turned to the covered typewriter, and began releasing the catches that held the lid in place. “Maybe you need to work on forgiving yourself before you involve me in your life. Now, you need to leave. Your appointment's probably waiting for you.”

“I never felt Tish was a burden,” he stated. He felt the truth of her words but denied them still.

Liz placed the lid under the desk, letting it clatter loudly in the heavy silence that spun between them. “Penance. She was your penance, and you called her your Angel. She wasn't real to you, she was an idealised version of the woman you wanted her to be. I want to be real.”

Draco felt his body sag, as if he had been punched in the gut. Through stiff lips, he said, “Right. I'll see you at tea then?”

“Yeah. I'll drop Scorpius by your flat.” Liz began feeding paper through the roller, her bleak expression in profile. 

He exited the room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading. Please take the time to let me know what you think.


	11. Chapter 11

Draco entered the Ministry of Magic with a sense of excited dread. He was uncomfortably aware that Granger was waiting for him in her office. Ghosts of his childhood obsession kept appearing in his mind, arousing and embarrassing him in turn. He took the lift down to the second level, and turned down the corridor that led to Granger's office. When he arrived, the door was propped open. He took a moment to collect himself as he observed the woman she had become. 

He had always admired her figure and studious manner. Not much had changed about that, except that she had become fuller and riper with age. Draco thought that by the time she turned forty, she would be stunning. Her bottom lip, always her best feature to Draco, was being bitten in concentration. He suddenly felt the same desire to kiss the savaged surface, as he had longed to do when he had spied on her in the library so many times at Hogwarts. The lines at her brow were deepened, and as he had as a child, Draco wanted to ease them away with his fingers. He shook his head. This meeting was not a good idea, especially given the conversation he had just had with Liz.

Liz. He was not sure he wanted to be thinking about that subject. He had taken the long way to the Ministry so that he might think about what his friend had said. He had concluded, after several attempts at denial, that she was very much correct in her assessment of his relationship with Tish. It may not have started out with him viewing her as a celestial being, but after her death, he had elevated her in his memory. It was harder for him everyday to even remember the little quirks about her. He decided that he would discuss it with Liz after work this evening, and convince her she was very real to him. She was his, after all.

Although, there was still the matter of her date. He wanted to forbid her to go, but knew that would go over like a Muggleborn at a pureblood soiree. He supposed he would just have to bear the idea of Liz being with another man for an evening. It might even do her some good, depending, of course, on how he, Draco, handled the situation beforehand. Which, he knew, he would handle very well. He was a Malfoy, after all.

He chuckled at the thought as he approached the small room and knocked lightly on the door. Granger looked up at him and her expression hardened. “Malfoy.”

“Madam Granger-Weasley, may I?” Entering the room, Draco sketched a polite bow, motioning to the chair adjacent to her desk, before he sat. He inclined his head politely. “Thank you, for making time for me in your busy schedule, Madam.”

Draco was sure, from the look of disdain she shot him, that she was looking for an insult in the words. She frowned, then answered, “What is it you want, Malfoy? Why are you being so polite?”

“I'm trying, Granger, to speak to you as I always should have,” Draco bit out, suddenly irritated at the chit. She had always been too direct, never giving room for the saving of countenance that was the currency of pureblood interaction. “I have come to ask if you might be able to help me look at the transcripts of my parents' interrogation after they surrendered.”

The brunette frowned. “Why me? Aren't you and Harry friends, now?”

“I need the best for my research, and that would be you,” he stated simply.

Hermione's expression hardened further. “What's this about, Malfoy? If this is an attempt to clear your parents of wrongdoing, I'm not the person you want. I suggest you contact a solicitor.” 

Her cold gaze swept him contemptuously as she saw he made no move to leave. “So, tell me, _Draco_ , how many women did you and your father rape in the name of purity?”

Draco stood abruptly, barely able to control his temper. He expected the worst from most people, but he had truly thought that Granger might be different. After a moment of struggle, he offered, “I do apologise for taking up your time. I'll just let myself out.”

“Harry says that you've changed,” she said in a small voice as he turned to leave the room. “Have you, or are you the same arrogant prat who was completely controlled by his parents?”

“Prison was wonderful therapy, Granger. That, and losing my son's mother, helped me see the error of my ways.” He crossed the barrier of her desk, insinuating himself into her personal comfort zone, and grabbed the chair arms. Leaning over her, he asked, “What do you want me to say, _Hermione_? I've paid for my mistakes. Have you?”

She sputtered indignantly, but Draco continued before she could interrupt. “Did you ever, once, think of visiting Pansy in the hospital after her father _Cruciated_ her into insanity for having the temerity to not take the Dark Mark? Did you ever offer the olive branch to Zabini, the man who not only protected her, but also married her after the attack, knowing what his life would be with her? Did you ever wonder how it felt when Pansy's father used _Diffindo_ on Blaise’s wand hand causing him to lose it, or cursed the bones in his leg so that they twisted? 

When was the last time you went out of your way to find out how Bulstrode was doing when her family was murdered during a particularly brutal Death Eater attack? You did know she is half-blood, even though she was an evil Slytherin, didn't you? And speaking of half-bloods, did you ever thank Severus for giving his life to your cause? Do you know how many times he was tortured and came back for more because he wanted to protect all of us from the Dark Lord?” Draco paused, and then added, contempt lacing his voice and manner, “I didn't think so.”

Draco let go of her chair. “And don't think for a moment that I was the only one spouting prejudiced claptrap. Your husband, Weasley, could be a poster-boy for uninformed hatred.” He turned from his former classmate. “Good day, Madam. I hope your life remains as unblemished as you perceive it to be.”

He made it to the door before she spoke, her voice clear and emotionless. “I'll help you, if you tell me one thing.”

Draco turned to her, his brows quirked. “Yes?”

“Did you truly hate me?” She had lost the self-possession that she had had when he entered the room. Her golden eyes glowed with pain and they were both transformed into the painfully confused children of their Hogwarts days.

“Merlin, Granger.” Draco felt his face warm. The question he had not ever wanted to answer, and he knew only the truth would make her want to work with him. He fixed his eyes on the obligatory picture of Minister Shacklebolt as he sank to the chair he had claimed before. “I wanted to shag you since third year, ever since you struck me. I never hated you.” 

The tension broke as she giggled, the sound bringing back a shadow of his old longing. She was still unattainable, but he felt gratified that his discomfort could bring her pleasure. “Slytherins are so... twisted. Now, tell me what you need.”

Draco laid out the bare facts for her, from his father's involvement with the rescued victims, to the locations of the safe houses. Granger became more interested as he told her the stories he had gathered from the women he had interviewed. Not only had Lucius aided them financially, but also Narcissa had provided funds so that they might access private counselling.

After Draco finished, Hermione said, “So, if all this is true, and no offence, Malfoy, but your father doesn't seem the type to do something out of the milk of human kindness; why didn't your parents use this in their defence? I'm sure the Wizengamot would have given them a lesser sentence.”

“That's what I'm hoping to find out,” Draco answered. “And, you are correct in your assessment of my father's sense of self-interest. Malfoys are notorious for that trait.”

“I'll see what I can do.” The Gryffindor stood to usher Malfoy out of her office. “I'm sorry; I think I have judged you too harshly, Draco.”

“That means a great deal to me.” Draco shook her extended hand and then added, “And Granger? Just to let you know about Lucius’ activities during the war, landed purebloods, as a general rule, don't indulge in premarital or extramarital relations. We don't want to compromise existing marriage contracts and Fidelity Charms.”

The door swung closed as Draco glimpsed a look of numbed comprehension register on Granger's face.

&*&*&

Toby was having trouble learning to fly. It did not seem natural to him to perch on a little stick and expect it to support him hundreds of feet in the air. Teddy, Victoire, and now Rose had all joined him on the Quidditch pitch in the waning afternoon light to help him learn. 

Teddy looked critically at the school issue Comet that Toby had chosen. “Naw, Tobe, this one won't do. It's got too many bristles missing and the shaft is broken. Go back to the store and see if Madam Hooch has anything better.”

Toby huffed noisily. “She doesn't like me. I'll just try with this one.”

“Oh, for heaven's sake, Toby,” Rose interjected. “I'll go with you. I don't know why you think everyone hates you.”

The girl held out her hand, and Toby put the broom in it. The dark-haired girl scowled, and then stalked off. Victoire giggled as she leaned in to him to say, “She didn't want you to hand her the broom, you idiot.”

Toby dashed off, embarrassed at Weasley's remark. “Hey, Rose! Wait for me!”

When they returned, Rose was holding his hand. He wanted to take it away because it was sweaty from his nerves, but he did not want to offend her. He noticed that Teddy was sitting close to Victoire as they approached. They broke apart and first Victoire, and then Teddy mounted their respective brooms, and zoomed to flank them. 

Teddy flew like a demon. He bragged that his Uncle Harry had taught him to fly, and that his uncle had been the youngest Seeker in a hundred years. Toby did not think he would be trying out for the Slytherin Quidditch team any time soon; he just wanted to pass the class. Rose even did better than he did on a broom. 

Teddy's hair flared orange, and then faded to a more sedate forest green shot through with silver. Toby laughed along with the two girls at the change. Teddy grinned impishly in answer. “You like? I thought I'd do it for the match this weekend. I much rather Slytherin win than Ravenclaw.”

Rose mounted her broom, smiling broadly. “Thanks, Gryffin-boy.”

“Aw, it was nothing, Slyther-girl,” said Teddy, with a bark of laughter. 

“He just thinks our chances are better against Slytherin than Ravenclaw,” Victoire laughed raucously and flew away, with a mad upward spiral, as the green-haired boy gave chase. 

Toby watched the aerial brilliance of the two Gryffindors, feeling as if his heart was in his mouth. Rose leaned over and patted his shoulder. “Time to mount up.”

Grumbling under his breath, Toby swung his leg over the worn broom. He practiced hovering for a moment as Teddy and Victoire approached. Teddy appraised Toby's seat on the broom. “Much better than yesterday, but hold your elbows a little closer to your body. It cuts down on drag. Now lean forward so that you can balance better.”

Toby tucked in his elbows, feeling and accounting for the shift in equilibrium as he did so. He suddenly felt much more at ease, and gave an experimental nudge forward and upward. “Oh, it's just like riding a bicycle. Why didn't you say?”

“A what?” Teddy asked.

Rose answered disdainfully, “It's a Muggle thing, wizard-born. You wouldn't understand.”

Toby edged higher, feeling the weight and heft of the broom underneath him; he executed a shaky turn before he looped back to his friends who were following him, still talking about his bicycle comment. He turned again, more steadily this time and rose higher. He was now even with the bottom row of the stands, higher than he had ever been before. Once more, he arced up and around, completing a full lap as his friends watched. He could hear Rose's cries of encouragement above the other two. 

He moved higher, level with the top tier of the stands when a large object almost collided with him. He spiralled away, nearly sickened by the motion. When he looked back, he saw it was a Bludger. It swung back towards him and he dodged, falling into a swooping and dodging pattern. Teddy and Victoire tore after him, attempting to draw the ball away from the Slytherin, but it stayed its course. Rose darted to his side just as it made another swipe at him. He heard the crack of breaking bones as she yelped and went into a free fall as the ball deflected through a goal and off the field. Without thinking, Toby dove beneath her and caught hold of her robes just before they both hit the hard ground. He pulled up on his broom to soften the impact as they landed in the sand of the pitch, and rolled end over end. Toby felt the handle of his broom give way. 

He lay on the ground, stunned for a moment, his head spinning and bright spots floating before his eyes. He was aware of approaching footsteps and he sat, dizzied by the motion. Madam Hooch was grinning at him as she secured Rose to a stretcher. Her yellow eyes glinted as she proclaimed, “That was brilliant flying, my boy. With a little more practice, you could try out for Slytherin's Quidditch team next year. You'd give Gryffindor a run for its money, I'm sure.” 

Teddy and Victoire came to a screaming halt beside their friends, kicking up a cloud of dust as they landed. The blonde girl, looking quite pale, asked, “Where did that Bludger come from, Madam Hooch?”

The grizzled witch paused in her ministrations to Rose, frowning. “I don't know, Miss Weasley. Once I get through here, I'm going to find out. It didn't look like a school-issued one, though. Now, please escort your friend up to the Hospital Wing. I want him to be checked out by Madam Hasselnuss.”

When Toby began to trudge back to the storage shed with the pieces of his borrowed broom, the flight instructor shouted, “Don't worry about that, boy, I'll get it later. Now, off with you.”

Teddy dismounted and walked beside Toby, a scowl marring his face. “I don't like this, Tobe. Not one bit.”

&*&*&

Liz listened attentively as Scorpius prattled on about his day. She had always liked toddlers. It was her favourite stage of development. Scorpius had recently decided that he needed to open all doors for her. She usually ended up helping him, but he manfully attempted each door, punctuating his efforts with small groans and grunts of aggravation. Liz unlocked the door to his flat, and watched as his chubby hand grasped the crotchety doorknob. He gave a mighty grunt as he twisted it to no avail. Liz waited patiently as he tried again, wondering how they had beaten Drake home, when the door was pushed open from the inside. 

Scorpius pouted for a moment as he exclaimed, “Daddy! I was openin' it for Auntie, like a gen'man.”

Liz's eyes met her friend's tempestuous grey ones and for a moment, it seemed time stopped. Draco stepped forward as his son blazed past him. Liz had never been on the receiving end of such a heated look. She revelled in his hands as they scraped through her hair and he dragged her to him. She felt the length of his body slide against her as his lips came to hers, at first gently, then with less-practiced fervour. He pinned her against the wall as he pivoted their bodies. Her breath mingled with his as she opened to him, and she shivered with unquenched desire. He trailed his hands up her ribcage, only to stop maddeningly at the fullness of her breasts. His kiss slanted down to her neck, and she moaned involuntarily. He growled in response as he licked and nipped her exposed throat.

Finally, he pulled back, his breath coming in short pants. “I want you.” He ground against her, his eyes stormy. “When is your date?”

Liz swallowed before she could manage a husky-voiced response. “The Yule dance, at Hogwarts. Professor Longbottom asked me this morning.”

“I want you to go.” He clenched his jaw and the working of the muscles there fascinated Liz. “But I'm not going to make the wait easy on you, and I won't share you after the dance.”

He caught her bottom lip between his teeth, nipping lightly, his eyes hooded with desire. Liz nipped at his upper lip in reply and as he let go with his teeth, he said, “Good. It's not going to be easy for you either.”

He leaned his forehead against hers. “I almost bollocksed this up, didn't I?”

Liz was surprised at the wanton sound of her throaty laugh. “You're not out of the woods yet, Drake.”

“Can I at least see the light at the edge of the forest?” He kissed her again, his breath coming in ragged chuffs. Liz slid her hands shyly to his chest, noting the firmness of his flesh under his ordinary clothes. She accidentally brushed over a hardened nipple and he jerked back, his face suffused with a darker tinge in the yellow light of the hallway.

Liz pushed him away. “Maybe a faint glow. Now what's for tea? I'm starving.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading. Please take a moment to let me know what you think.


	12. Chapter 12

Draco leaned back in the uncomfortable institutional chair. He was in an interrogation room in the Auror's office at Azkaban. After weeks of rejected appointments by Lucius, and an equally fruitless search of trial and official transcripts, he had been summoned for a meeting of undisclosed purpose. He smoothed his hair, which he had left unbound for the interview, a sign of his pureblood status and power. He knew the games of his forebears, even if he no longer indulged in them anymore. He had been waiting for over an hour before a Guard had poked her head in the room and told him he would be seen soon. That had been two hours ago.

The room was rank with old sweat and piss. Odours he remembered all too well from his stint in that asylum. He wished he had thought to wear the cologne Liz had given him last Christmas. It was an inexpensive scent, but better than the foul smell he had to endure at the moment.

Draco wanted to cast the Tempus charm to check the time; Scorpius would be getting out of play school soon, but he felt it would weaken his assumed air of ennui. He heard a small commotion outside the room and then the door swung open. Draco stood as soon as he heard his father's distinctive drawl.

Lucius' cold eyes swept his son. “Draco.”

“Father,” he answered as he gave a curt bow. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

Lucius scowled as he was escorted, rather more roughly than necessary, to a chair behind the table in the centre of the drab room. The guard, a man in his late forties with greying, brown hair and a bald patch, loosened the restraints that prevented the prisoner from sitting. Lucius swept as gracefully as he could to the seat as the guard returned to the open doorway warning, “Yeh 'ave a 'alf hour.”

The door was swung shut forcefully, and Draco winced at the finality of the sound. Lucius' look of hauteur fell. “I was told you were looking into my extra-curricular activities during the war.”

“I was summoned from the mainland so that you could question me about that after the countless times you've refused my requests for visitation?” Draco stood up straighter, giving his father a piercing look. Lucius' return glare was defiant and cool as he lifted his chin and peered down his nose at his obviously recalcitrant son.

The Malfoy hauteur has been deployed, Draco thought with an inane wave of mirth.

The two men remained silent for a long moment, neither willing to break eye contact. Finally, Draco came to a decision. His father had taught him, from an early age, never to be direct when approaching a problem, but given the time constraints, Draco felt he had no choice. “Father, during the war, were you working for the Order?”

'I don't know what you are alluding to.” Lucius' gaze slid away from his son's. “Please, don't continue your research.”

“I don't understand, Father, if you helped the Order -” Draco began.

Lucius gave a vicious swipe across the table. “No, you don't understand. Let the matter rest. That is my final word on this entire fiasco.”

“Father, please, I think if the facts were known by the right people, I could get a lighter sentence for you.” Draco hoped appealing to his father's sense of self-interest would make him more amenable to the idea of his inquiries.

“What of your mother?” Lucius dragged a shaking hand over the stubble on his head, an alarming sign of the control he was exerting over his temper. “She is known to have killed her own niece using an Unforgivable. Do you think the Ministry would overlook that indiscretion just because she aided a few Muggles? Leave the matter alone.”

Lucius stood and awkwardly in his bonds and crossed the room to rap sharply on the door, keeping his back to Draco. A flap swung open and the guard's bored countenance appeared. Lucius rasped, “I'm ready to leave.”

Draco stood, his fists clenched in frustration. “Father, I need to know. My friend, Liz, she was one you helped. You rescued her from Uncle Rodolphus, the night you locked me in your chambers. She told me as much. Scorpius' mother, Snape rescued from Aunt Bella and... me. I've talked to other women and many identified you as their rescuer. I've traced the places they were held, and they were Mother's properties. Black properties, from her marriage portion, that she withheld from The Dark Lord. Snape's, Dumbledore's and Scrimgeour's seals are on the title transfer to her cousin, Sirius. All done after his death while you were in prison. I already know much of what you both did.

Please, Sir, I just want to understand why Dumbledore failed to protect you.” The younger man's next words came out in a painful whisper. “Was it because of me? Because of what I was ordered to do to save Mother?”

Lucius' shoulders sagged as he exhaled softly, “Dragon, please, I beg you. Don't look any further, you won't like the answers you find.”

 

Draco was astounded to hear his father using his childhood pet name; he had not heard that since he was about five years old.

The door swung open and Draco watched as his father was backed against the wall at wand point. The guard immobilised the elder Malfoy, then affixed the chains from his wrists to one secured around the waist and through the juncture of his thighs. As the two left, Draco kicked the chair that he had earlier occupied, across the room in his frustration.

&*&*&

 

It had been a fortnight since the Bludger had hit Rose. The four friends had come no closer to solving the mystery than they were the day the accident happened. Madam Hooch had found the ball several days after the incident, but it bore no distinctive markings and was seemingly untraceable. Teddy's Uncle Harry had come to the school the same day it was found. After questioning the four children and Madam Hooch, he had left with the object.

Teddy sat on the battlement of the Astronomy tower, throwing a Fanged Frisbee up in the air, and catching it expertly between his booted feet. His broom was propped beside him. Victoire and Rose watched in consternation as he leaned over the tower's edge. Toby was looking at the Giant Squid, its tentacles, waving in tiny arcs, nearly blending with the choppy water of the lake. Two more weeks, and they would all be going home. If Toby lived that long.

Teddy threw the toy at Rose, and she scrambled out of its path, having been bitten by it before. “Stop it! We're up here so we can work on Toby's problem.”

“You still think the thing was after Toby?” the older boy slid down, scoffing. “I told you already, it could have been sent after any of us. We're all unpopular right now. I'm the son of a werewolf, for Circe's sake. I'll never be the most popular bloke.”

“Yeah, and your godfather is Harry Potter. Get over yourself, Teddy.” Rose snorted derisively and rolled her eyes towards the heavens.

“I think it was after him,” Victoire seconded her friend's opinion. “Didn't Uncle Harry tell us about a Bludger that was charmed by a house elf to go after him in his second year?”

“Great, all we have to do is question all the house elves working at Hogwarts and see which one has a murderous rage against me,” Toby said bitterly. “Maybe then my life won't be in danger.”

“Ah, Tobe, come on,” Teddy retrieved his Frisbee from the floor. “I don't think anyone is out to get just you... “

“I'm tired of thinking about it,” Toby spat off the edge of the tower, watching the blob fall until he could not see it anymore. “I wish I had never come to this stupid school.”

He tore out of the area, ignoring the girls' cries of concern.

He found himself at the doors of the library and he entered quietly. The feel of the room always eased his mind. It smelled like the museums that Uncle Drake and his mum liked to take him to on the weekends when he had lived at home. He made his way past Miss Abbott, turning his face from the kind woman. He did not want to speak to anyone at the moment.

Toby flopped down on the floor in the Muggle section. No one ever came here. It was the ideal place to hide. As he settled in, his mind went over the same question he had been asking since the first attack. Why?

He had made sure he learned the etiquette lessons his uncle had drilled into his head. He never asked impertinent questions, never greeted anyone without a bow, and always behaved himself, unless he was alone with his friends. Professor Zabini would not allow him to break any rules of the school. Toby was sure he had not offended anyone.

Maybe it was his friends. He was grateful for his friends, but maybe they were the problem. If two Gryffindors had not befriended him, maybe the older members of the House would not hate him so much.

On the other hand, it could be that he was a half-blood and the son of a Death Eater. He still was not comfortable thinking about how he had come about. He wondered if his father was still alive or in Azkaban.

It was strange, really. Whenever he thought about what his father looked like, he always looked like Uncle Drake. He wished Mum would marry his uncle. That would make it impossible for the Gryffindors to hate him. Uncle Drake was good, even though he had the Dark Mark. He decided that he would talk to his uncle during the break. Maybe if Toby told him about his difficulties, Uncle Drake would marry his mum. That would make things better.

Feeling confidence resurge with a plan of action, Toby went out in search of his friends. They all had some investigating to do.

He went back up to the Tower, but realised they must have already left. On his way back down, he passed the Professor's Lounge; the door was slightly ajar. He considered knocking to see if one of the Professors had seen the trio, but his motion was arrested by two voices.

The first, Professor Longbottom said, “I don't care if I have to hex every one of them to get them to stop the attacks. These children are innocent of any wrongdoing. And, that boy in particular faces enough obstacles, without having vigilantes trying to kill him.”

Professor Zabini laughed, a soft sound that held the unmistakable air of disbelief. “I can't believe you, a Gryffindor, would be so concerned about one little snake. Things certainly have changed.”

“Don't mistake me for a Weasley, Blaise,” the Gryffindor Head said, his tone anything but warm. “You may not have fought alongside us, but you did your part. If you hadn't helped me ward the Room of Requirement, we would have lost quite a few more students than we did. I will always remember that, even if you never received the recognition you deserved.”

“Leave off, Longbottom. I just couldn't stand to hear you Gryffindors whinge every time you were Cruciated. It was selfishness that motivated me, nothing more,” Professor Zabini stated, his voice a rough rumble. After a moment, he continued. “Pardon me if I don't believe your interest in the boy doesn't have more to do with his mother than you're letting on. What will Miss Abbott think?”

“You know very well that she broke it off with me this time, you git.”

“Ah yes, the vagaries of an inter-House relationship. That's why I thank the gods everyday for Pansy. You would have been better off with the Weasley girl. Too bad she fell for Potter,” Zabini's voice continued over the loud squeak of a chair. “Now, if you'll excuse me, I have a young snake I need to deal with.”

The door swung wide, opening on Toby's red face. Professor Zabini smirked. “Come in Mr. Cowell. I know you have some questions.”

&*&*&

 

Liz met Ginny for a late lunch at a Muggle restaurant located a few blocks from the office. She had lunched with Ginny often since the trip to Hogwarts, and they were quickly becoming good friends. Ginny sat with her hand on a saltcellar, fiddling with the intricate glass pattern.

“So, let me see if I have this straight: You have a date with Neville for the Yule ball at Hogwarts, but are being snogged senseless by Draco every time you see him?” Ginny pulled the salt container closer to her. Liz would make sure to check her friend's bag before they left. The last time they had been out, an irate waiter at the exit had stopped them and Ginny had had to hand over a container of artificial sweetener. That had been quite embarrassing.

Liz pulled the shaker from Ginny's hand, placing it well out of her reach. She worried the inside of her mouth between her teeth. “I'm a slut, aren't I?”

The redhead rolled her eyes heavenward. “Can I ask you something personal?”

“What?” Liz asked over the sick fluttering in her stomach. If Mrs. Potter wanted to ask her something about her rape, she would make sure the woman knew how inappropriate the line of questioning was.

Ginny sighed. “Are you sleeping with both of them?”

Liz's face flamed and she jerked forward, spitting out, “No! What the hell do you mean by that?”

“Then stop calling yourself a slut. I hate that word,” the redhead hissed. “I know very well that you haven't been in a relationship in years. And now you have two attractive men after you. It's about time.”

Liz looked away, embarrassed by her outburst. After a moment, Ginny asked, “So have you decided on a dress for the ball?”

“No. I don't even know what you people wear to things like that.” Liz worried her cheek nervously. She had not thought of that. She supposed she could make do with one of her new outfits.

Her friend clapped happily. “I know just the colour for you, and I would love to design your dress. My Mum sews, and she could whip it out in a couple of days. Please, let me dress you. It would be so much fun.”

“That would be nice, but I don't want to put your Mum to any trouble,” Liz demurred.

Ginny waved her hand attempting to catch the waiter's attention. “Don't be silly. She's got nothing to do since the foster children went to Hogwarts. Plus, it will keep her from pestering Neville about not being married, at least for a while.”

&*&*&

 

Liz watched Drake make dinner for the three of them, his movements fluid and precise. He had changed out of his work robes and wore a crisply pressed shirt. The attractive blue oxford cloth was rolled to his elbows and was unbuttoned to the crest of his sparsely haired chest. Idly, Liz remembered those arms around her the previous evening. He truly was not making it easy for her to wait for the Yule Ball to be over.

She knew his meeting had not gone well, but he refused to talk to her about it before Scorpius was in bed. She offered, from her seat at the table, “Are you sure you don't want me to help?”

Drake's brow smoothed as he glanced at her. “You know, kid, I think I could use some help.”

He motioned her to him, and she complied, a little breathless as his eyes swept her body. He stepped back from the hob, handing her the spatula he was using to stir-fry the vegetables. As she began stirring, his arms encircled her waist. He leaned down to her neck, planting small kisses that raised goose bumps over her arms and midriff. Liz gave a low moan as he rubbed his pelvis against her bottom. It was evident that Drake was just as eager for the ball to be over as she was.

“Drake, I'm going to burn the food,” she moaned.

His strong arms pulled her closer, and then he reached past her and switched off the burner. “Sod the food. That's why restaurants were invented.”

He continued the exploration of her neck, with the enticing addition of his hands moving up to cup her small breasts. She fell back into his embrace as he slid his hands under her jumper.

“Daddy!” Scorpius called from the living area. Liz pulled away reluctantly from Drake, and turned on the burner again.

She chuckled darkly as Drake sat hastily at the table when the boy rushed into the room. He gave her a hard glare as he answered the urgent summons. “What is it, son?”

“A lady's in the Floo. She says she wants to talk to you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading. Please take a moment to let me know what you think.


	13. Chapter 13

Narcissa sat in the small room afforded to prisoners when they needed to meet privately with solicitors. The warden had given her special permission to meet with her husband to discuss important matters. Narcissa smiled at the method of payment the man had expected for her little request. Her jaws had been deliciously sore for two days afterwards. It had been nice to be with a man after so many years.

Lucius was to be brought in soon. She flexed her fingers, the only outward sign of her nervousness. Once finished with that activity, she arranged herself in the most demur pose possible. She listened for the clanking of the charmed chains that always heralded a male prisoner's entrance. She did not have to wait long.

Lucius had not changed from the last dozen or so times she had glimpsed him in the past months. He was still haggard, old, poor and powerless. She kept her face still so that she might not betray the distaste he evoked in her now. She waited patiently while the guard settled the situation with Lucius' confinement and then left.

Lucius' eyes swept her, and she noted the kindling of long banked desires in them. Thank the gods prisoners were not allowed physical contact. Narcissa might swoon if he touched her with his dirty ragged-nailed, hands.

“Cissa,” he whispered, a sure sign he was aroused. “It has truly been too long. You look lovely.”

“I try, Lucius,” she replied, with a smirk. “So, did you set the boy on the correct path today?”

The wizard sighed gustily. “Cissa, darling, is that all you have to say to me after so many years apart?”

“No, dear, but what I have to say can wait.” The witch arched her sculpted eyebrow. “Well, did you or did you not stop our son from delving where he shouldn't?”

“He's no longer a child. I think it's time you realise that, Narcissa,” Lucius countered. “He might do well to understand the sacrifices we made for him.”

“You made them for him, not I. I had already made that odious traitor Snape take an Unbreakable Vow to protect our son.” Narcissa scoffed. “You were the one to undermine the Dark Lord's position with all your plans to save filth.”

Narcissa's calm mask slipped as Lucius said in a dangerous drawl, “You were the one that insisted I return to the fold, even after your disgust at his actions the night he was brought back. I would have had us leave the country, and saved us all time in Azkaban.”

“You were a traitor to our cause, just as Snape was,” she replied in a slightly raised tone. She felt outraged at his duplicity. Her whole life she had been raised to believe that pure-bloods were superior. Her faith had been shaken upon learning that both Severus Snape, a man whom she had welcomed in her home, and the Dark Lord, whom she and her sister had followed fanatically, were both half-bloods. It was almost as bad as sharing a table with a Mud-blood. She shivered, thinking of the offal her son had slept with to get his heir, knowing that Lucius tacitly approved. She had tried to accept the little half-blood, but saw the mud coming out of his pores, and could not stand the thought of his touch.

And to think, Lucius had let that thing hug him. Disgusting.

Lucius laughed aloud, the sound angry in the small room. “Oh, yes, and you were right there behind me when it came to sparing Potter. Or am I mistaken in the belief that you were the one that told our fearless leader that The Boy Who Lived was indeed dead, in exchange for information on Draco's well-being?”

“Only after you and Snape ruined things.” Narcissa stood abruptly in outrage, goaded past all thoughts of proper decorum. “I want a divorce.”

Lucius laughed louder; the sound was tinged with hysteria. “Never.”

“I've already filed.” She drew legal papers out of her robes, delighting in the dawning look of pain and horror on her husband's face. “You are being sued on grounds of cruelty. Whom do you think the courts will believe? You? Hardly.”

“By the gods, I wish I had beaten you more than once,” Lucius spat, and before she could react, he had his hands around her throat crushing the air out of her. Her lungs began to burn and she frantically clawed at his hands as he squeezed tighter. He lowered his face to hers, his lips scant millimetres from her ear. “You faithless bitch.”

 

&*&*&

 

Drake came back to the kitchen, a look of suppressed joy on his face. “That was my Aunt Andromeda. She's asked us to Christmas dinner.”

Liz masked her disappointment; they always spent Christmas together, the four of them and her Mum. She knew it was selfish, feeling that way; Drake really did not have a family that was not locked away. Liz began dishing the food into a bowl and set it on the table, already laid for dinner. She turned to the rice in the steamer, her hands trembling as she moved the container to the table. “That's grand, Drake. I hope you have fun.”

She felt his hands encircle her waist, his lips near her neck, sending chills down her spine. “Don't be silly, kid. She's invited us all. I told her about your mum's Christmas pudding, and she's keen to try it. It wouldn't be Christmas if we weren't together as a family.”

A tight knot formed in her chest, a mixture of happiness at his words, and fear at the idea of change. Christmas with his family might not be so wonderful, she thought, from what she had seen of the sad woman at the train station. “Let's eat, and we'll discuss it later.”

Draco collected his son from in front of the TV and returned, his eyes alight with excitement. “Come on, Liz, it”ll be fun. You'll get to see a real wizarding family Yule. It won't be as grand as the ones we used to have at the Manor, but you'll love it.”

“I'll ask mum tomorrow, and maybe you could send an owl to Toby for me.” Liz dipped a small portion of the rice and stir-fry onto Scorpius' plate. The boy grimaced at the amount of green he had to eat, but tucked in anyway. “I wish you bloody wizards would just find a way to use the internet. I can't stand those bleedin' birds.”

 

&*&*&

 

Teddy crowed triumphantly as he relayed his success at his part of The Plan. “Grandmum said she'd invited your mum and uncle tonight. I just got her owl.”

Toby stretched in the seat he always assumed in the unused classroom the quartet had appropriated as their war-room. He looked to Rose, the resident whiz at Charms. “So, have you figured out how Victoire's grandmum Charms the mistletoe?”

“Of course,” Rose smirked, conveying her supreme confidence in her considerable abilities. “But I think we should test it first.”

Toby blushed and began walking towards her, his lips puckered. He really did not want his first real kiss to be like this, but he could live with it, if it meant kissing Rose.

“Not on me, you dolt.” She retreated, red-faced.

Victoire snorted unbecomingly, the sound at odd with her beautiful exterior. “I must say you do catch on quickly, Tobe.”

“Shut it, Weasley, or I'll hold it over your head so you can snog Teddy,” Rose retorted, jerking her head towards the older boy. Teddy's hair turned bright red and he harrumphed loudly.

“Let's hang this sprig someplace that has a lot of traffic,” suggested Teddy, after an uncomfortable moment. “We can see if it works that way.”

 

&*&*&

 

They decided on hanging the Charmed mistletoe in a moderately used corridor outside the Library. The four took turns watching as several students were caught under its enchantment. Most got away lightly, with a peck on the cheek releasing them from its hold. Rose had included a Charm that increased the power of the compulsion, according to the attraction the couple felt for one another. It had worked well, so far.

After the third hour, just before curfew, Toby had been sent to retrieve it. Madam Abbott had been walking down the corridor as he approached when Professor Longbottom was pulled toward her. Toby hid behind a statue of Melanie the Moderate, and watched as the two kissed, a little sickened by the action.

Madam Abbott attempted to break away from the heavy snogging that Professor Longbottom was giving her, but every time she did, she was drawn back by the Charm. Professor Longbottom's hands were all over her, then suddenly articles of clothing were on the floor, and someone _moaned._

Toby had seen enough. The others would just have to come back for it later. The boy started to flee, really not wanting to see his Professor and the Librarian like that _at all,_ when he felt a hand fall firmly on his shoulder.

Toby looked up into Professor Zabini's stern countenanced face. He waved his wand, releasing the couple from the Compulsion Charm and drew Toby back behind the statue, until the red-faced adults gathered their wits and departed.

When the corridor was empty, the Head of Slytherin dragged Toby out by his robe's collar and down two floors to his office. He slammed the door as he ordered the boy to sit. Toby had never seen him so angry before

Professor Zabini turned his back on Toby for a long moment, before sitting behind his desk, his face still drawn in lines of anger. Toby squirmed under the scrutiny he received, moving his lips over his teeth nervously. He was really in for it now; maybe he would even be expelled. Panic gripped his guts and he felt a little sick. Mum and Uncle Drake would be so angry with him, and he would never be a proper wizard. He felt tears prickle at his eyes, and his nose became stuffy.

“I take it you and your friends were the authors of that little prank?” Professor Zabini's rough voice finally sounded.

Toby said softly, “Just me, sir. I'm the one who did it.”

The Professor looked angrier at his admission. His jaw muscles worked for a moment, before his eyes narrowed. “Don't lie to me, boy. As your Head of House, I am well aware of your abilities in Charms. You don't have the skill to pull off the Compulsion Charm required for that... horrible prank.”

“No, sir, it was just me, really.” Toby would not let his friends get into trouble simply because they had decided to help him get his mum and Uncle Drake together. He knew the Professor was unconvinced.

“Do you realise the harm you have caused with your little prank?” the older man snapped as he rubbed his jaw with his hand. “Professor Longbotttom and Madam Abbott have never done anything untoward to you, and you caught them very neatly. If they had been caught... they might both have been fired.”

Remembering the odd sounds he heard from the couple, Toby asked, “Sir, are Professor Longbottom and Madam Abbott all right? I heard someone moan and we really didn't put anything in the Charm to hurt anyone, just make them kiss, Honest.”

“Stay here.” The Professor scowled, leaning forward, menacingly. Toby drew back further in his seat. “If you leave my office, you will regret it.”

 

&*&*&

 

Draco was literally aching with need. Liz was sprawled over him on the couch, her face flushed and lips bruised from his attentions. Her hand ran over his bare chest and he revelled in the feeling as she roughed up the sparse, gold hair and lightly grazed the scar from Potter's attack during sixth year. He kissed her again, rubbing against her in his ardour before he drew away. “Jesus, Liz. I never knew you were so... ”

She drew her jumper over her head, and dropped the discarded garment to the floor. He watched hungrily as her nipples peaked against the silk of her bra, still moist from his attentions. He lifted his head to her again, nipping her lips before he entered her mouth, taking her tongue with his. She straddled him, and with a moaning sigh, said, “Christ. Drake, we've got to stop, before... I want you, so badly.”

At that precise moment, he could not think of a reason why he did not have her in his bed, shagging them both to insensibility. Between heated kisses, she gave him his answer. “We have to wait until after the Yule Ball, then I'll be yours.”

“Damn Longbottom,” he growled, as he eased her off his lap. “You're mine now.”

She laughed as she scooped her jumper from the floor. “Maybe. You remember your massive foul up? The light in the forest is definitely brighter, almost daylight.”

“Trees be damned. After that ball...,” he growled. She stood up, straightening her short skirt. He followed the curve of her bottom with his eyes appreciatively, catching a glimpse of a tattoo he had not seen before, high on her thigh. _A dragon, how intriguing._ He ran his hand over the spot, his nostrils flaring as he caught her musky scent. “It's late. Stay here, I'll sleep on the couch.”

She turned her warm, brown eyes to him, “No.”

“I'll ward the bedroom door so that only you can open it,” he offered, standing. “And I'll give you my wand.”

She kissed his nose. “When I do stay the night, it won't be to sleep.”

She took a handful of Floo Powder and said her address, before she sneezed and stepped through the green flames. Draco was suddenly glad the Ministry had allowed them to establish a connection for her. He did not like the idea of her out on the streets alone at night.

He doused the lights with a flick of his wand, and went to the bathroom to take a long cold shower.

 

&*&*&

 

Professor Zabini returned to the room with Teddy, Victoire, Rose and a very irate Professor Lepidus. Professor Zabini glared at all four of them before he barked, “I am extremely disappointed in each and every one of you. We will stay here until I receive satisfactory answer about your irresponsible actions.”

Victoire began, her lip trembling slightly. “Sir, it wasn't Toby's fault. It was my idea. You see, my grandmum always Charms mistletoe so that you can't leave until someone kisses you.”

“And I was the one who charmed it. I read about most of the Compulsion Charms in the Restricted Section.” Rose mumbled, looking down at her feet. A tear dripped from her nose.

Teddy admitted, his face so white he looked as if he might faint, “It was me that suggested we test it before we use it.”

Zabini rasped, “Why were you testing it? Were you going to deploy it around the castle to wreak havoc? Cowell, I await your answer.”

Professor Lepidus held up his hand in a quelling gesture and the Slytherin Head fell to silence, but glared at Toby balefully. “Professor, if I may?”

Zabini nodded tensely as the Headmaster bent to Toby's level. His brown eyes warmed as he spoke to Toby, “Mr. Cowell, what were you planning to do with the mistletoe?”

“Sir, it's private.” Toby could not meet the older wizard's kind eyes.

Rose whispered harshly, “Tell him, Tobe.”

“Yes, Mr. Cowell, do tell,” Zabini said, his glare harsher.

Toby looked up and took a deep breath, “I-wanted-to-make-my-mum-and-uncle-fall-in-love.”

The two adults fell silent. Finally, Professor Zabini asked, “I didn't catch that. You said...?”

“Teddy was going to put it up at his house, so that when we came for Christmas dinner, Uncle Drake would kiss my mum, and they would fall in love.” Toby felt the tears start to flow down his face, and dashed them away angrily.

He heard a choked sound come from his head of House. Toby continued, “I know it was a stupid idea, but I thought, if I had a real dad, no one would pick on me anymore. We really weren't trying to hurt anybody, especially not Professor Longbottom and Madam Abbott.”

“I see,” said Professor Zabini finally. Toby glanced up and saw the man looking at him thoughtfully. “Very well, I have received my answer. Tomorrow, you four will report for detention to Professor Flitwick. He will instruct you in proper research methods. After that, you will each present yourselves to Professor Longbottom and Madam Abbott with written apologies and explanations for your actions. Mr. Cowell, I would like a word with you before you retire. The rest of you, go straight to your dorms, you have a long day ahead of you.”

Toby watched the others leave. Professor Zabini bade him to sit, then summoned tea. He sat again, looking sadly out the window of his office into the darkness. He finally poured the tea and sat it before Toby. “I am sorry that you've found yourself in the middle of such animosity between the Houses. If you have any problems, don't hesitate to come to me. I would be honoured for you to consider me a friend, that is, if things don't work out between your mother and Draco.

“Thank you, sir,” Toby answered softly, suddenly tired by the night's events. “That would be nice.”

“Very good,” the Professor said, looking away again. “Now please, take a biscuit, and when you're finished I'll walk you to your dorm.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading. Please take the time to let me know what you think.
> 
> Read the short story, **Freedom**


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is dedicated to my mom. She is my inspiration.

The Sunday before the Yule Ball, Liz travelled by Floo powder to The Burrow. It was time for her fitting, and she was nervous about how the dress would look. Ginny had been tight-lipped about the whole thing, not even letting Liz know what colour it was. The redhead had hinted that her straight-laced mother was scandalised by it. That really did not make Liz feel any easier about it. She was not sure if she could carry off scandalous, or even moderately sexy, for that matter. 

She met, or rather fell over Mrs. Weasley coming out of the Floo. She thanked God that she had chosen to wear slacks to the event, as both women went sprawling on the floor. Ginny followed with her three children in tow, and was taken by a fit of giggles. Liz grunted, a little put out that her predicament was so amusing to the redhead, but when she thought about it, after she had scrambled up and helped the matriarch of the clan to her feet, she laughed. Ginny sent the children to find their grandfather and introduced Liz to her mother. “This is my mum, Molly Weasley. Mum, Liz Cowell.”

“I'm glad to finally meet you, Mrs. Weasley,” Liz said politely. “I've heard so much about you. I believe you worked with Drake to get your foster children?”

“It's Molly, dear,” Molly said, giving her an odd look. “You work with Draco Malfoy? I'm sure he's said quite a bit about our family.”

“Mum,” Ginny warned. “You know he's not the same git I went to school with, and he and Liz are practically an item now.”

Molly's eyebrows rose almost to her brow-line. “Really? I was under the impression that I made the dress so she could accompany Neville to the ball.”

“Yes, you did,” Liz replied; she could have pinched Ginny at that moment.

“It's a long story, Mum.” Ginny smirked. “Rather sordid too.'

Liz heard Molly mutter to herself. She could make out the words _no wonder_ and _Malfoy_. The older woman went ahead of them and Ginny rolled her eyes. Liz almost snickered, but caught herself. The older redhead was doing her a favour, after all.

The three went to the kitchen where the dress was hanging from a magical dress-form that had been given Liz's colouring and projected hairstyle. Scandalous was not the word that came to mind when Liz saw it. It was made of a heavy, clinging slipper-satin of palest aqua. Thin straps of rhinestones at each shoulder supported the bodice, with its almost bra-like appearance, and the skirt formed a fishtail with a small train. Liz had been worried the dress would be too revealing, but Ginny had kept it surprisingly conservative, almost plain. 

Then the form shifted, and Liz saw the reason for the consternation on the older woman's part. The back of the dress was almost nonexistent, plunging almost to the top of the model's buttocks. The only thing holding the dress in place, that Liz could see, was a thin band of rhinestones that clipped at the bra-line and fell in a long chain to just past the top of the skirt. Liz glanced at Ginny, noting her barely-suppressed glee.

“Well, what do you think?” she asked with sparking eyes and a broad smile.

Liz said, “Wow. I've never seen anything like it. It's... ah...”

Molly weighed in, “It's going to scandalise the whole school, that's what. I just don't know what your generation sees in these Muggle-style robes.”

“Mum, Liz is a Muggle,” Ginny laughed. “Do you like it, Liz?”

“It's gorgeous. If I weren't built like a stick, I'd probably look like a movie star,” Liz said, running her fingers over the cool cloth.

“Well, try it on, dear.” Molly said kindly. “I'm sure you will look wonderful in it.”

Ginny showed Liz to her old bedroom where Liz changed in front of one of those talking mirrors that wizards loved so much. The mirror gave a low wolf-whistle, but refrained from further comment. She looked critically at herself, noting the tattoos on her back and upper arms were bared. Damn. She wished she had the money to have them removed. All but the one in the small of her back, the one to commemorate the life of the boy murdered the night she was abducted. She saw that it was framed between the panels of the dress. The teal leaves of the lotus and the Chinese characters in the tattoo were complemented by the pale colour of the cloth. 

Ginny knocked, and Liz bade her to enter. The redhead clapped exuberantly. “It fits almost perfectly. Let's go show Mum.”

&*&*&

Draco was playing Wands and Snakes with Scorpius when a knock on the door came. He ignored it at first. Sunday afternoon, after Mass and family dinner, was his time with Scorpius. Everyone knew that. They continued their game, Scorpius crowing loudly when his piece was whisked up two levels because he landed on a wand. Draco laughed as his son gave a small victory dance. “You really are a silly boy, Scorpius. You haven't won yet.”

The knock came again, more insistent this time. Draco scowled. 

“Dammit. Let me see who that is, and then we'll continue the game. Don't cheat.” Draco warned as he went to the door. His son laughed as Draco turned and caught the child with his chubby fingers on Draco's game-piece. “Brat.”

Blaise Zabini was waiting in the hall. Draco greeted him, trying not to scowl. “Blaise, come in.”

The Professor nodded, and on entering the room, seemed to take note of the domestic scene. “Draco, I'm sorry to bother you, but this is the only day I can get away from my duties. I really need to speak with you. Is Ms. Cowell about?”

“No.” Draco motioned the man to a seat, “Is it about Toby? I can get in touch with her if need be.”

“It's better if she's not present. Can you break away for a moment?” He moved his eyes to Scorpius, intimating he needed to speak to Draco privately.

“Certainly.” Draco moved to his son. “Daddy and Mr. Zabini must have a meeting. Can you entertain yourself quietly while we speak?”

“Yes, Daddy, and I won't cheat.” The boy moved to the TV, and switched it on to the educational channel to which Draco had charmed it. 

“ _En Francais?_ ” Zabini asked, slipping into their usual mode of communication when around Goyle and Crabbe in the Common Room at school.

Draco grimaced. “I'm a little more than rusty. Let's just go to the kitchen. I'll make tea.”

The two men repaired to the kitchen, Blaise assuming his post at the table, while Draco set the electric kettle to boil. “So, what is it? Has there been another attack since the Bludger incident?”

“No.” Blaise looked away, obviously embarrassed. “How is your relationship with Ms. Cowell?”

The kettle began steaming and Draco prepared the mugs, his back purposefully turned to Zabini. “Do you take milk and sugar, or plain, like a man?”

“Plain, please.” Zabini answered.

The kettle began whistling and Draco poured the hot water over the teabags, letting them steep for a moment. “What's this about, Blaise? Don't tell me your old prejudice is resurfacing.”

“Hardly.” Blaise sipped the hot liquid. “Where are you going to celebrate Yule?”

“I'm losing patience with this, Zabini.” Draco bestowed a hard glare on his old friend. “Either tell me what this is about, or leave. You've interrupted my time with Scorpius.”

“It seems young Mr. Cowell has decided you should be his father,” Blaise began. He told the entire story of the Charmed mistletoe, including the portion in which Longbottom and Hannah Abbott were almost compelled to have sex in the hallway. Draco failed to suppress a laugh as Blaise finished the story.

Blaise stopped speaking, and then observed, “I take it there would be no problem with you being compelled to kiss Ms. Cowell?”

“There hasn't been yet,” Draco retorted. “I do imagine though, that shagging in my Aunt's parlour wouldn't get us another invitation.”

Blaise nodded. “I have instructed them on the proper use of Charms, so I'm sure they won't be using the same ones. I just wanted you to be aware of the plot.”

They sat in companionable silence for a moment before the inevitable question arose. “So, are you serious about her?”

“I think I am.” It was Draco's turn to be uncomfortable. “I was going to wait until we've actually dated to ask her, but I think I want to marry her.”

Blaise's expression went through several emotions before it settled on quizzical. “Then, why is she going on a date with Neville?”

“I want her to realise that I'm not the only man who desires her.” Draco looked away from his friend's gaze. “She doesn't know how beautiful she is, and I want her to.”

“Merlin, Draco, you are really one twisted fuck.” Blaise shook his head. “You don't think you're good enough for her. I never knew a Malfoy could have an under-confidence problem. Don't bollocks this up by letting Longbottom be the better man.”

“As if that were possible,” Draco muttered. “I just want her to have one date that's not with a Death Eater. Then she can settle down with me and be my love slave.”

“I'd like to see that.” Zabini's dark eyes lit lasciviously.

Draco countered, “Perv.” 

Draco stood, hearing another knock on his door. “Jesus, what is it with company today?”

He opened the door to a grim-faced Potter and his equally saturnine partner. Draco felt his heart plummet. “Potter, Finnigan, come in.”

&*&*&

Liz and Ginny entered the kitchen and Molly Weasley gasped. Liz hunched her shoulders self-consciously, knowing she must look a fright with her tattoos. 

“Oh, you were right, Ginny,” the older woman breathed. “She looks just like a Muggle model. Your figure is just perfect. Why do you have pictures on your skin?”

“Tattoos, Mum.” Ginny volunteered. “Muggles get them to decorate themselves.”

Molly peered closely at the phoenix on Liz's arm. “They're quite fanciful. Do they come off?”

“No, they're done with inks that are put under the skin. They're permanent.” Liz sighed. “Sometimes I wish I had never got them.”

“Oh, no dear, they are lovely. You look like a walking art gallery.” Molly smiled and circled around Liz. “What's this one mean?”

Liz felt her fingers on the lotus tattoo. She almost choked as she answered, “I got that one to honour a boy who was murdered.”

“Oh, dear.” Molly patted her back. “Let's get to work. I'm sure you have things to do. Arthur would love to meet you. I wonder what he’s up to. Ginny, dear, could you find him, please?” Turning back to Liz, she asked archly, “Unless you're free for dinner?”

“Thank you, but I've made other plans,” Liz demurred, liking Molly even for all her managing ways.

Picking up her wand, Molly said, “Another time then, dear. Maybe we can invite Neville... or Malfoy,” she added the latter as if begrudgingly.

The older woman began flicking her wand over the dress, drawing it in at the breasts, adjusting the fit of the straps. Liz was amazed at the speed with which she dispatched the work. Liz had been forced to learn to sew in school and had hated it because the results were not instant. That, and she could not sew a straight line to save her life. Puckered seams were not acceptable, as old Missus Beasley had intoned every time Liz submitted a project, the cow. Liz almost wished that she could have learned to sew the magical way.

Ginny entered the room with a paunchy older man. Molly greeted him with a little peck. “Arthur, this is Liz Cowell. She works at the Muggle Liaison Office with Draco Malfoy.”

“Pictures!” he said. Liz backed away as he approached her, seemingly drawn to the tattoos. “I've heard of these, but I've never seen them close-up. Do you mind?”

“Uh, no.” Liz held herself still, afraid to move in the presence of such obvious madness.

Molly said, “Arthur, wouldn't it be nice if we got one to commemorate Fred? Do you think they would take on a wizard?”

Liz darted a glance at Ginny, who was fighting a losing battle with her mirth. The Floo flared from the other room. Ginny said, voice shaking, “I'll get that.”

Molly finished the fitting under Arthur's scrutiny, when Ginny returned. “Liz, we need to get you back to London. Are you finished with the fitting, Mum?”

“Yes, dear. But who was in the Floo? You never said.” Molly turned away for a moment, distracting Arthur from his scrutiny.

“It was Harry, Mum.” Ginny's anxiety was evident as she drew Liz from the room.

Liz followed the young woman, her alarm growing as she noted the redhead's pallor. “What is it? Has there been an accident?”

When they reached the room in which Liz had changed earlier, Ginny followed, shutting the door behind her. “I didn't want to say in front of Mum and Dad, but a few days ago, Draco's father tried to kill his mother. Today he attempted suicide. Draco has asked you to meet him at St. Mungo's. His father's condition is critical, and he may not make it through the night.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know that Sirius Black sports tattoos in the movies, but they are not canon. This is my story, and I liked the idea of the older Weasleys' fascination with Liz's tattoos, so I included it.
> 
> Thanks for reading. Please take the time to let me know what you think.


	15. Chapter 15

Draco had not yet been permitted to see his father. On his arrival, he was instructed by Harry to wait in the family area outside the Muggle-style Intensive Care Unit. The MICU was built eight years ago, after the inception of the cross-disciplinary Healer/Physician programmes. The Healers in the unit were an elite group who not only apprenticed as Healers, but also received degrees in Muggle universities. Draco did not know if he should feel comforted by the fact that his father was in the unit, or alarmed.

Draco jiggled his leg for a few moments before standing, starting a circuit of the room, trying to find anything to distract him. He touched the obligatory fake plants, ran his hand over a windowsill, then trod restlessly between the door and the chairs. Finally, he made his way out into the hall.

He paced in the hallway, past the two Aurors set to guard the unit, Potter and Finnigan. Draco caught Potter's uneasy gaze and held it for a moment before the dark-haired man's eyes skittered away. Draco completed his circuit, before returning to his seat beside Blaise, who had accompanied him and was now watching a wiggling Scorpius.

“Anything yet?” Zabini asked as Draco sat heavily in the chair beside the two. Draco merely sighed.

Scorpius, who was becoming restive with boredom, whined, “Daddy, can we go home? I'm bo--ored.”

“Not yet, little man. Daddy needs to stay here to see grandfather.” Draco picked up a magazine, an ancient, yellowed Witch Weekly from 2001. “Why don't you look at this for a while. When Auntie Liz arrives, maybe she can take you to get some toys.”

Scorpius flipped through the magazine for a moment then got up to retrieve another. Soon the floor was littered with relics of other family tragedies, years worth of paper distractions set before them.

Draco stood again, his pointless pacing a symptom of his unease. Tish used to tease him about it. He waited for the knife-like pain that thoughts of her usually brought, but only felt a distant sad longing. He wondered when that had happened. When had his frenzied grief had turned to acceptance?

He walked past the door of the unit again, noting the foreign smells of alcohol and plastic overlaying the more organic odours of the wizarding hospital. He paused before Potter, giving voice to an accusation he had not acknowledged before his circuit. “Why was he allowed contact with my mother? Have the rules of Azkaban changed that much since I left?”

Potter winced, and nodded at Finnigan. He took Draco's arm and drew him away. “I'm not at liberty to discuss that, but the matter is being investigated.”

Draco snorted. “Like they've investigated every irregularity at that prison.”

“All I can say is that the incident is being looked into.” Harry's voice cracked. “I know what you're thinking...”

“Not bloody likely,” Draco retorted. “My father may be a cold bastard, but he loves my mother. The only time he ever raised a hand to her was when she endangered us.”

Draco felt his jaws clench with the effort he made to restrain himself from shaking the git. “Jesus, Potter, you know something, at least tell me why he did it. Give me a reason not to hate him.”

“I-I....” the Auror stammered, and walked them further down the corridor, out of Finnigan's earshot. “This is between us, okay?”

Potter waited for Draco's short nod of assent before he said, “She handed him divorce papers. The guards on duty said they fought before she did it, and then he said he wished he had beaten her more than once. She's suing him on grounds of cruelty.”

“So, she engineered witnesses,” Draco replied, sneering at Harry's attempt to refute his statement. “I know my mother, Potter. She may be a mad bitch, but she's a mad bitch who does nothing without a purpose. ”

“I'm sorry, Draco,” Harry offered, clearly unable to voice his dismay adequately.

“Such is the life of a Malfoy,” Draco shrugged. “Thanks, Potter.”

“Draco...” Harry began, but the Draco stalked away, unable to bear the pitying look in the other man's eyes.

When he returned to the family room, Ian was waiting for him, still in his cassock from his afternoon duties. He opened his arms and Draco allowed the priest to crush him in a hug. “My boy, I'm so sorry. Is there anything I can do? Do you want me to watch Scorpius?”

“If you could.” Draco broke away from the embrace, embarrassed by the Muggle openness of his friend's affection. “Would you please offer some prayers to the Blessed Mother and St. Jude, also? St. Mungo's doesn't have a chapel.”

The priest frowned then nodded. “I'd be glad to. Have you seen the doctor yet?”

“He's a convict, Ian,” Draco’s voice grated over the words. “I doubt, very much, that he even has one that cares enough to let me know anything.”

A small cough and pointed look from Ian alerted him to the presence of a new person in the room. Draco turned slowly, only to spy the nearly identical twin of Parvati Patil. She was in the green scrubs of a Muggle physician, with the accoutrements of that profession hanging out of her pockets and about her neck. She held a small clipboard and was nervously straightening the white coat that covered her to her knees. Draco noted that her dark hair was pulled back in a tidy, thick braid. She smiled professionally as she greeted each in the room with a nod.

She extended her hand, motioning Draco to take a seat. Blaise excused himself and took Scorpius from the room, saying, “I'm going to take him to visit Pansy, if you don't mind?”

Draco nodded absently as he took a seat, hoping vaguely that the visit would be good for his old girlfriend. He joined the Healer, already seated on one of the uncomfortable chairs.

“I don't know if you remember me from school, but I'm Padma Patil, I was in Ravenclaw. My _sister_ was in Gryffindor.” She looked at Draco, a quirk of her brow conveying that she knew more of his history with her sister than she was letting on. Draco looked away, forcibly reminded that his thoughtless actions had long-lasting consequences. She leaned in, speaking softly, so Ian could not hear her words. “I am not my sister, Malfoy. Your father is in sympathetic hands.”

“Thank you,” he replied, suddenly feeling small and mean-spirited with his blanket judgement of her.

She swept her sherry-coloured eyes up to his face, all business-like now. “Your father has had a small stroke from the blood-loss of his suicide attempt. That is why he's in this unit, rather than a more traditional Healing atmosphere. We are better equipped to deal with these types of problems. He's been stabilised and given both blood transfusions and Blood Replenishing Potion. We have him on oxygen and intravenous fluids. He has not awakened yet, but as far as we can tell, he's not comatose.”

“May I see him?” Draco asked, panic knifing through him. His breath was coming quickly in short gasps. He had so much he needed to say to his father. He realised that he had never told him how much he valued his love and protection. He had never said how important Lucius' pride had been to him, even now. Draco rubbed his jaw's stubble, wishing inanely that he had shaved this morning. Lucius would expect him to be well groomed for a visit with him.

Patil placed a cool hand on his arm. “I'll see what I can do, but as bad as he looks, you mustn't upset him. If I see that your presence is causing his vital signs to fluctuate, you will be removed from the room and not allowed back. It's important that he remain stress-free for his recovery. Do you understand?”

“Yes,” Draco replied as the Healer stood. She swept from the room without a backwards glance.

&*&*&

Liz and Ginny arrived through the Floo at St. Mungo's reception area. Liz had not gotten over her fit of sneezing as they stepped out of the way of the next arrivals. A woman, dressed all in green, with a Healer's wand-insignia on her pocket, grabbed Liz's arm and began escorting her to a room. “Now, what seems to be the matter, Madam? Have you ever had Dragon Pox or been exposed to Doxy droppings lately?”

“No, no, no...” Ginny rushed to the room as Liz gave one final sneeze. We're here to see Lucius Malfoy. I was told he's located in the MICU.”

“But the sneezing… and the pallor...” the Healer glanced quizzically at Liz. “Are you sure you haven't been exposed to something?”

“No, I'm just allergic to Floo powder.” Liz gave the Healer a wan smile as she exited the room.

“Allergic?” Liz heard the Healer exclaim from the room. “But that's a _Muggle_ malady.”

She turned the corner and glanced back to see the Healer's head pop out the door of the exam room, her expression almost comically alarmed.

Liz and Ginny entered the hall of the MICU where Liz left Ginny to talk to Harry. She found Draco alone in the family room, looking out a window. His hands were in his pockets, his shoulders uncharacteristically hunched. He broke her heart, looking as he had when Tish's final days came.

Liz touched his back with her open palm, and rubbed small circles on it, as she had to Toby when he was a child. Her friend turned to her, and buried his face in her shoulder. As she held him, she felt his hot, silent tears fall on her neck and her blouse. She smoothed his hair, speaking soft nonsense until the storm passed.

Finally, he looked up, his pale lashes spiky and wet, his eyes red-rimmed, and his nose swollen. “Merlin, I'm ugly when I cry.”

She gave in to the temptation to kiss him. He tasted salty and a little like burnt coffee as his tongue glided over hers. She knew, at that moment, that there had never been another man but him for her. She shivered with the revelation. She deepened the kiss, feeling the tide of his emotions run over her. He broke away, his grey eyes cast down. “I love you.”

“Drake...”

He stopped her words with another breathtaking kiss, then said, “You don't have to say anything. I just wanted you to know.”

They stepped apart as a mediwitch entered the room. “Mr. Malfoy, you can see him now.”

&*&*&f

All the sound-emitting gadgets and the tubes connected to them alarmed Draco. Lucius lay grey and pale on the white bed linens, his eyes closed in what looked like sleep. A tube ran into his mouth and seemed to be pulling fluids from his body. Another tube went into his nose. His arms were restrained with tape and straps, and a bag, filled with fluid dripped liquid down a hose into his arm. He looked like a nightmare image from a Muggle horror movie. Draco repressed a shudder as he sat in a chair by the bed.

He watched a machine tabulate numbers. Draco thought he recognised the arithmantic properties of the instrument's output, but would have to have time to understand the importance of them.

Lucius' hand twitched against the bed covers and Draco took it reluctantly. The mediwitch had assured him that Lucius was probably aware of all that went on around him. She had said speaking to him and touching him, at this point, would be the best thing Draco could do to aid him in his recovery.

Draco struggled for words to speak to the lifeless form on the bed. He could think of thousands of things to say, but felt too inadequate to utter them. He remembered a song he used to sing to Scorpius when he was a baby. He vaguely recalled hearing his father sing him the tune when he had a restless night as a child. Draco licked his lips nervously, and began to sing the tune softly to his father. Lucius' hand twitched in his son's palm as the younger man sang, and Draco looked up expectantly. To his disappointment, his father still slept.

&*&*&

Liz awoke from her fitful sleep, her neck painful from the awkward position in which she slept. Drake was standing over her, his face haggard. “You need to go home, Liz.”

She stood feeling cack-handed and awkward. Draco pulled her to him, resting his hand on the curve of her hip. “I want to stay with you tonight. Don't send me away.”

“All right,” he answered as she pulled him tightly to her. They settled back onto the chairs, the silence of the atmosphere weighted and motionless. Liz took Drake's hand in hers and they spoke softly of the day's events.

Draco smirked at her description of the older Weasley's and their reaction to her tattoos. Liz expressed her displeasure at Toby's efforts to unite them. Draco looked sorry, for a moment, that he had told her about it. Finally, all topics exhausted, they rested against each other, the conjoined chair arm digging into Liz's hip uncomfortably. “Drake, I don't want to go to the ball with Professor Longbottom. I'll feel like I'm cheating on you.”

“He's a decent sort, Liz.” Draco kissed her cheek. “You need to go, kid. The ball is Tuesday. He won't be able to find a date now.”

“But, still, there's that Miss Abbott...” she began.

“I'll be there with Blaise,” Draco interrupted. “He's asked me to help chaperone. Will that make you feel better?”

Liz blew her fringe with a gust from pouting lips. “Just grand. Now I will be cheating on you while you watch.”

“There will be no touching, Liz. No kissing, no fondling, no heated looks or even friendly smiles.” Draco's possessive demeanor made Liz laugh.

“It'll be hard to dance with him then.” Liz giggled.

“Good.” Draco leaned to kiss her.

Liz's laughing mouth could not quite form the proper shape. After a moment of his mock consternation, she whispered against his lips, “I think I love you, too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading. Please take the time to let me know what you think.


	16. Chapter 16

Lucius woke in the middle of the night while Draco sat at his bedside reading to him softly from an issue of _Witch Weekly_ left in the waiting area. The mediwitch bustled into the room and asked Draco to leave. Lucius' hand clutched his son's painfully.

“Father, they need me to leave.” 

Lucius moaned and began thrashing as he held onto Draco's hand with surprising strength. The mediwitch left the room, bringing back Dr. Patil.

The former Ravenclaw addressed Draco, “Do things make you squeamish?”

Draco leveled a glare at the woman, realising as he did that she probably had no idea of his history with Tish. He said, more calmly than he felt, “No.”

“Very well. Hold your father's arm down to the bed,” she said matter-of-factly. “We're going to take the tubes out of his stomach and his chest. It's not going to be a pleasant experience, so you'll have to be strong for both of you.”

Draco turned his head to look into his father's eyes, attempting to project a calm that he did not feel. He had always hated this aspect of Tish's treatment. Just before the sucking sound of the tubes being pulled from his father's throat, Draco heard the Physician say, “You need to cough, Mr. Malfoy.”

“Fucking bloody hell, bitch!” Lucius rasped. Draco felt as if his heart had stopped. His father rarely swore and never did so around ladies. He knew Lucius considered such language common and below a Malfoy's high standards. Draco froze, waiting for the explosion he was sure would come from the doctor. 

Draco's horrified paralysis was broken as she chuckled, saying to Lucius, “Didn't like that much, did you?” 

Lucius' reply was cold-eyed disdain. He looked past the physician, as if she were beneath his notice.

“Well, now I can give you something to make you more comfortable if you'd like,” the doctor said to Lucius. Without waiting for a reply, she scribbled something on a pad and handed it to the mediwitch, before taking note of Draco's embarrassment. “Don't worry about what he says. The speech centres have been affected in his brain. The stronger the emotion he needs to express, the more understandable he will be. He simply has some problems choosing the right words at the moment. Just speak to him slowly and he should be able to understand most of what you say.”

Draco nodded numbly as she stroked Lucius' hand, her voice sincere. “I'll see you tomorrow, all right?”

“If... must,” came the older man's answer, his face now drawn in an odd half-mask of frustrated anger. 

Draco made a move to leave, wanting to let his father rest. Tears formed in Lucius' eyes as he implored, slurring slightly from the paralysis of his stroke, “S-s-stay... here... talk... t'm-m-me. S-s-sorry.”

&*&*&

Liz roused herself as Drake entered the room. He had lowered the lights for her before he left the last time. Her friend, haggard from the day, sat and scrubbed a hand over his jaw absently. “They gave him some potions, so he's asleep for the night, kid. Let's go home for now.”

“Okay.” Liz began to gather her things as she stretched her aching muscles. “What time is it?” 

“I don't know,” Drake sighed. “Maybe three?”

Liz stood, biting her cheek contemplatively. She straightened her blouse, fussing with the wrinkles that had been ironed into it by her sleep position. “I don't want you to be alone.”

“I won't be, if you stay.” Her friend's gaze sought hers shyly. “No funny stuff, though. You're spoken for until after the ball on Tuesday.”

&*&*&

Teddy was clearly beside himself with joy at the Gryffindor table at breakfast that morning. He waved wildly at Toby as the younger boy entered the Great Hall. Toby heard him shout, his voice booming over the din of the room, “Hey, Tobe, meet me by the staircase in the main hall after breakfast.”

Several older Slytherins snickered, but refrained from comment as Professor Zabini strode by. Rose slid into a seat beside him, rolling her eyes expressively. “No wonder his House hates him. What was that all about?”

“Dunno.” Toby slathered a piece of bread with strawberry jam, and began eating it with gusto. He asked, “So, you and your brother are still staying at Hogwarts for the holiday?”

Rose's expression darkened. “Yeah, Mum's got a new boyfriend. She doesn't want us under foot.”

Toby felt sorry for his friend, but kept silent. She had made it clear that she would not tolerate pity. They ate in silence for a moment before Rose added, “S'all right though, I'll be able to finish my portion of that Potions project we're working on.”

“Yeah, that'll be good.” Toby finished his breakfast. “Maybe Easter break you two can spend at my Mum's house.”

“Maybe.” She turned her attention to an owl that was swooping down to the Slytherin table. It stopped in front of a surprised Rose. She had only received one owl post since the start of school. The girl removed the message from its leg and gave it a piece of bacon. She glanced down the table at her brother who was holding a similar missive in his hands. Rose ducked her head over the letter as she opened it. After quickly scanning it, she crumpled it and stood abruptly. Toby noticed tears streaming down her cheeks as she ran from the room. Her brother followed his face red. 

Toby watched as Victoire followed her friend from the room. Unable to eat, he made his way to the staircase to wait for Teddy. He would find out what the bad news was later, when Rose calmed down. 

“What was that all about?” the Metamorph asked as he approached moments later. 

Toby only shook his head and shrugged. “What was it you wanted?”

“You know your Mum's going to be here tomorrow, at the ball?” Teddy said, brightening. Toby nodded, still wondering about the drama of moments before. The older boy forged on. “Well, you're to come home with me tonight. You and Scorpi get to spend Christmas Eve with us, and Uncle Harry's family will be there too.”

“That's brilliant, Teddy!” Toby exclaimed, finally breaking from his reverie. “We'll be able to get the mistletoe in place.”

“You sure it's fixed?” Teddy asked dubiously. “We can't have your mum and uncle shagging in front of everyone. That would be disgusting.”

Toby grimaced at the thought. “Yeah, it would be.”

&*&*&

Liz awoke disoriented, struggling against a restraint. It took her a moment to realise she was in Drake's bed and it was his arm holding her down. She moved slowly so as not to wake him. He asked, his voice a sleepy growl, “Where do you think you're going?”

“The toilet, and unless you want to have a water bed, you'll let me up.” Liz pinched his arm playfully. 

Draco pinched back. “Don't take too long. Too much coffee last night.”

She returned after washing the sleep from her eyes and rinsing her mouth with mouthwash. “Get up slug-a-bed. We have things to do today.”

Drake, never a morning person under optimal circumstances, moaned and covered his head with his pillow. Liz sat next to him, playing with his hair. “Don't, you'll snarl it,” he said sleepily.

“You really are so vain, Drake,” Liz said, laughing as she contemplated his prone body. She had never realised how much a person could enjoy the male form until that moment.

Drake put his arm around her waist, pinning her against him. He lifted his head, his hair tangled on the side he had slept on and smooth on the other. “Come back to bed.”

“Are you propositioning me?” Liz slid down, coming to rest next to him.

Drake groaned. “Is that all you have on your mind? I'm bloody exhausted, Liz; the office is closed for the holidays, and I just want to have a lie-in with a gorgeous woman.”

“I'll go see if I can fetch one for you,” Liz smirked.

Drake sat up, releasing Liz from his arms. “Goddammit, Liz, I'm tired of you saying things like that.”

“What,” Liz asked, locking her gaze with his, “the truth?”

Drake grunted, and then grabbed her arm, pulling her up roughly. “I want you to look at yourself.”

He propelled her in front of the mirror that hung from the back of his bedroom door. He stood behind her, one hand lightly holding her waist and the other cupping her chin. “Look at yourself.”

She met her own gaze reluctantly in the mirror. As Drake spoke he ran his hands over her body lasciviously, his expression full of dark longing. “You are slender, not skinny. Your eyes are like melted chocolate, not mud. Your face could have been painted by Michelangelo or Da Vinci, it is not homely.”

He paused, dipping his lips to her ear as his hands opened her borrowed night-shirt to the navel. He cupped her small breasts, the nipples achingly hard at his touch. He rubbed himself against her, the evidence of his attraction causing the arousal she felt at the erotic image she observed to spread like languorous fire in her belly. Drake whispered, “These are perfection and every time I feel them pressed against my chest, I become aroused, knowing that I will be the only one touching them or kissing them. Now, I hope you're convinced, because I really have to piss.”

He dropped his hands, pushed the night-shirt together and headed toward the bathroom. Liz exhaled, “Fuck me.”

&*&*&

Professor Zabini was in the Common Room, directing the students who were going home for the holidays. Toby hung back, waiting for an opportunity to speak to the man about the Alstons. The Professor spied him and turned from the second-year girl he was instructing. “Mr. Cowell, I assume you are packed for the break?”

“Yes, sir.” Toby backed away from the Professor. He had not felt as easy around him since the mistletoe incident. A fleeting expression of pain crossed the man's face before he turned once more to the waiting student, and Toby slipped away. He looked for Rose's brother, Robert, in their dorm, and did not find him. He slipped back out of the Common Room and went to the Gryffindor portrait. Toby sat down, waiting beside the Fat Lady, who smirked unpleasantly at him, but said nothing. He did not have to wait long for Victoire to come out with Teddy after two older students had entered the Tower.

Toby stood, rubbing nonexistent dirt off his trousers as he stood. “Weasley, where's Rose?”

“You haven't found her yet?” Teddy asked. “You said you were going to look for her right after we talked. That was an hour ago.”

Victoire hunched her shoulders and leaned against the wall. “She said she didn't want to see anyone. She's upset. The last time I saw her, she was heading to Moaning Myrtle's bathroom.”

That bathroom had become infamous after Harry Potter's defeat of the Basilisk, and every successive generation of students had heard the story. It had become the stuff of legend, even though its primary inhabitant was so annoying. Toby nodded and tore down the stairs, his friends sprinting after him.

Toby reached the door of the bathroom moments later, out of breath. He burst into the room, and began calling his friend, peering under the closed stalls. He found her in the last one. Sinking to his knees he implored, “Rose, come out. Please.”

“Go 'way,” came her muffled reply. “I don't want to see anyone.”

Teddy and Victoire entered the room, and Toby motioned them to silence. The two Gryffindors sat down next to Toby uneasily. Toby said, “Okay, don't come out, but at least talk to me.”

A snuffling noise sounded and then Rose answered in a watery voice, slipping into the vernacular she had tried to lose over the term, “It's me mum. She's getting married to a Muggle and she don't want us around anymore. Says he won't understand us.”

Toby did not know what to say, so he reached under the stall door, his palm turned up. Rose twined her fingers through his. She whispered, “She don't love us. No one does.”

Toby leaned his head against the wooden door and whispered. “I do.”

&*&*&

Lucius was eating when Draco and Liz entered the room; he grasped a spoon clumsily in his fist like a child. He let the spoon fall with a clatter and turned his head to view his visitors with his good eye, frowning slightly as he came to Liz. He raised his head imperiously, commanding, “Who... s-sshe?”

“Father, this is Liz Cowell. I think you've met her before.” Draco pulled a reluctant Liz forward.

“Hello, Mr. Malfoy,” Liz said, hesitantly. “It's nice to see you again.”

“'Gain?” Lucius spat. “Bloody fucking Muggles. Thought I was through with you lot.”

Lucius scowled at her a moment as she lifted her chin imperiously. The older Malfoy seemed to recognise her after a moment. “Black... man... Bah! Snape. Not... d-dead. Bastard.”

“No, father, Uncle Severus is dead. He died during the Battle of Hogwarts, remember?” Draco spoke placatingly, alarmed at his father's change in demeanor as the man threw his spoon.

“Not. Saw... your woman. Said he's... got a duty,” Lucius shouted. “Could have saved us.”

Liz murmured something about getting some help. Draco sat on the edge of the bed. “Father, you must calm down. If you don't, your doctor will tell me to leave and I won't be able to return.”

Liz returned with Dr. Patil, who carried a syringe. Lucius slapped her hand as she began to administer the Muggle potion in the plastic vial. She narrowed her eyes, but continued to depress the plunger, until the entire contents were in the IV line. She replaced the plastic tip on the needle and turned to Draco with an expression of compassionate concern. “I'm sorry; I'm going to have to ask you to leave.”

Lucius howled wordlessly as the doctor walked with the couple to the door. Draco's hands shook as Liz took his. The Ravenclaw said in a hushed, professional tone, “I know it's distressing, but emotional volatility is to be expected with a stroke. Right now, I suspect your father is extremely frustrated at his inability to communicate. You may return in a few days, but let him rest for now.”

Draco watched the woman as she went back into the room. She sat on the bed, stroking Lucius' hand, speaking softly to him. He seemed to calm noticeably as she spoke, his expression softening as Patil continued her ministrations. Liz followed Draco's gaze. “Bloody hell, Drake, he looks like he's in love.”

“You have love on the brain, kid,” Draco scoffed. “Don't tell me you're one of those women that want everyone to be in love when they are.”

“I just said I _might_ love you, prat,” Liz said sharply.

As they left the ward, Draco kissed her cheek. “No one can resist a determined Malfoy.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading. Please take the time to let me know what you think.


	17. Chapter 17

Salvation

Chapter 17

Liz had been poked, primped and prodded all afternoon by a twittering Ginny Potter and an equally giddy Hermione Granger. The two had smeared her face with Madam Merrifoot's Magical Mud Masque, tweezed her brows until she almost screamed, glopped horrendous amounts of moisturiser on her eyes and lips and now she sat in a tub in the Potter's house at 12 Grimmauld Place up to her neck in bubbles, milk, and some sickly-sweet potion that was supposed to exfoliate her skin and give it a healthy glow, according to Ginny. She felt ridiculous yet pampered at the same time. The two witches had said she had to soak for at least half an hour and had not allowed Liz to take anything to do. There were names for harridans like them, but Liz refrained from using them. They were, after all, only trying to help.

Liz did wonder at the change in the Hermione bint's attitude. Ginny had been quite open about the fact that Liz and Drake were practically dating. Instead of the same scorn the woman had shown when they first met, or at least dismay for her friend, Neville, Hermione had giggled and blushed, saying cryptically, “I guess he always did like brunettes.”

Ginny had guffawed at the comment and would not meet Liz's questioning gaze. 

Liz sloshed the water on her chest for what seemed the thousandth time when she heard a knock at the door. Ginny said, “Liz, it's time to get out. We have a few more things we need to do before you can get dressed.”

Liz rolled her eyes. Just how much was there to wizarding beauty preparation? She ran the water out of the tub, and switched on the shower, scrubbing her face until it felt clean and normal again. Once she had washed her hair, using the products provided by Hermione, she stepped out of the tub and retrieved the fuzzy green dressing gown that she had brought for the day's preparations. It was then she noticed that the two witches had taken the underthings she had brought. She did not care how things were done in the wizarding world; she was not going starkers under her dress. 

Liz stormed indignantly out of the bath. Surmising the best way to get the witch's attention was by use of the direct approach, she shouted over the balcony railing, “Ginny Potter, give me back my knickers!”

Hermione's bushy-head poked out of a room just down the hall from Liz's position. “Liz, do be quiet. Neville's here early.”

 _Shit._ Liz slunk down the hall to the open door where Ginny was having a grand laugh at Liz's embarrassment. Liz stuck out her tongue at the redhead. She could not help herself, even if the act was childish. 

Ginny saw her and laughed harder, holding her sides. “You should see your face.”

Liz did not need to see her face to know she was beetroot-red and scowling like Scorpius on a bad day. Hermione took pity on the Muggle, drawing her to a chair. “Shut up, Ginny. Sit down Liz.”

Hermione pushed her into a waiting chair and began to cast a drying spell on Liz's hair. In seconds her hair was dry. The witch cast another spell and Liz's hair was styled perfectly. Liz said, a little wistfully, “I really do wish I was a witch when I see you do things like that.”

The woman refrained from comment as she ran her fingers through Liz's hair, tousling it slightly. Liz was amazed at the change such a simple gesture wrought. Ginny approached, her mirth contained at the moment. “Step aside, Hermione, I need to render my assistance.” 

After artfully applied cosmetics and a few spells, Liz was allowed to look in the mirror. The sight that greeted her took her breath away. Liz looked good, even to herself. The mirror started to speak and Ginny levelled a wand at it. “Not a word, if you don't want to be melted down and used as a bowl.”

“This house, and its furnishings used to belong to a pureblood family.” Hermione explained as she stepped back to the fore. “Sometimes the mirrors aren't very kind. Here, these are the underthings we chose for you.”

The silk drawers were constructed to look like they laced up the back and would show an obscene amount of flesh if viewed from behind and the brassiere was two sticky, latex cups held together by a thin band of clear plastic. Liz held them up, scandalised. “I can't wear these”

“You have to. I already Vanished those... What did your American friend call them, Hermione? Oh, I already Vanished your granny pants.” Ginny said, triumph written in her stance. “So, as you can see, it's these or nothing.”

“Unless that was your idea?” Hermione added, mirth tingeing her expression. Liz almost choked on her negative response, as the brunette witch added, “Now, we'll just leave and let you get ready. You don't want to keep your dates waiting.”

As the door closed on Liz, she muttered, “Barmy cows.”

&*&*&

Draco noted sourly that Blaise looked dashing in his dress robes as he sprawled in the chair watching his friend pace in front of the Floo. The blond stopped, glaring at the timepiece on the mantle. Zabini attempted to hide a smile behind the glass of pumpkin juice he sipped. “So, what has you so upset, Draco?”

“Don't be daft, I'm not upset,” Draco scowled. After a moment he added, “Those two _Gryffindors_ wouldn't even allow me to see her dress. How will she know if Weasley designed an abomination for her? I should have at least been allowed to see it.”

“Don't worry, Malfoy, Mother has had occasion to dine with Mrs. Potter at various Ministry functions, and she has commented on the girl's good taste now that she no longer lives in penury,” Blaise drawled. “Surely you don't still give credence to that blood feud between your father and Arthur Weasley?”

Draco turned his back on the dark wizard. “Of course not.”

“Then let Liz have her surprises,” Zabini stated, his tone even. “Now, sit down. There is a matter I need to discuss with you. I believe it falls under the purview of your office.”

As the Defence Professor spoke about the day's events concerning the Alston children, Draco grew solemn. He had hoped the parents who kept the offspring of the rapes were like Liz, strong-minded and loving. It seemed that Toby's young friend and her brother had not been so fortunate in their upbringing. “So, the woman wants to relinquish custody of the children?”

Zabini nodded; his face drawn and sorrowful. Draco cursed softly. “We'll need to keep this out of the Muggle courts, of course, because you know I don't have the authority to just waltz in and take the children.”

“Certainly,” Blaise answered. “I was thinking of offering the woman a compromise.”

Malfoy waited politely for his old friend to elaborate, his head inclined. Zabini took the gesture for what it was, and continued. “I thought that I would offer to be their guardian in the wizarding world, if she refrained from filing documents in the Muggle system.”

Draco opened his mouth and shut it, finally saying, “Are you sure that's wise, given Pansy's condition? Two extra children, especially ones with problems, are a great responsibility, and given that you have yet to even have the one...”

“Did you know that Pansy has always envied the Weasleys?” Blaise asked, his husky voice low with the timbre of sadness that Draco had come to expect at the mention of his wife. “She always wanted a big family. I just don't see how that's going to be possible, given her medication and the way it affects her pregnancy. I've already spoken to her and she's agreeable. She's actually looking forward to it.”

Draco ran his hand over his dress shirt, smoothing the unwrinkled surface. “Have you spoken to Lepidus about it?”

“He was the second person I spoke with.” Blaise flashed a white-toothed smile, his eyes shining. “He thought it a marvellous idea.”

Draco wondered what the old Headmaster would have said about Snape adopting two children. “Things certainly have changed since Dumbledore's days.”

“They have.” Zabini raised his pumpkin juice in salute. “They most certainly have.”

&*&*&

Liz made her grand entrance from the Potter's second floor landing. She saw the heads of Harry and Neville bent in earnest discussion. Ginny, the wench, cleared her throat as Liz walked down, balancing on the strappy little shoes that the redhead had forced her to buy only a few months ago. The men looked up at her and gaped. Liz did not know if she felt like a glamorous model or a great, gawky bird. She smiled to give her mouth something to do, and knew it must have looked sharper than she intended. 

The Herbology Professor was the first to find his voice. “Ms. Cowell, you look... Uh...”

The man looked at Harry as if he were a fish left on the quay too long. Then, as the lines around his mouth grew white, he looked like he might faint. Harry recovered enough to lift his brows and say, “Wow.”

“It's good to know I married such an articulate man,” Ginny said, her expression a mixture of tart good-nature and gratified appreciation. 

Neville recovered enough to step forward and offer his arm. He swallowed audibly. “Shall we, Ms. Cowell?”

Liz laughed a little hysterically. “What happened to just plain ‘Liz’?”

“I don't honestly know.” Neville answered, his tone awestruck.

&*&*&

Liz and Neville Apparated to the gates of Hogwarts. It was a first for Liz and she really did not want a repeat of the mode of travel. She felt like she had been both squeezed and pulled apart at the same time. Her date waited a moment for her to get her bearings. He smiled softly in the moonlit night. “I know what I felt like the first time Gran Apparated me. It takes a while to get used to.”

“Thanks.” Liz squeezed his arm, glad that the discomfort her appearance had caused earlier was gone. “Professor?”

At the same time Longbottom said, “Ms. Cowell?”

They both laughed, their self-consciousness returning. “You first, Neville.”

“I just wanted to thank you for being my escort for the evening.” The gentle man blushed. “I just came out of a relationship.”

“The librarian?” Liz asked. “I know.”

The Professor's face fell in consternation. “I suppose Ginny told you about that?”

“I have my sources, but don't blame your friend,” Liz answered, feeling like an outrageous flirt as she clutched his arm. “I heard it may not be over between you two.”

“Zabini.” Neville’s eyes narrowed and a blush crept up his cheeks, staining them darker in the wan light. Liz thought he looked adorable and hoped that the woman in question thought so too tonight. “I just wanted you to know that while I appreciate...”

“Don't worry about it Neville, it's just a date between friends, if I can call you that?” Liz said, shivering in the Scottish night.

“That would be brill.” Neville's face underwent a transformation from slightly troubled and drawn to relaxed. Liz liked him better for his concern. “Shall we?”

The night was clear and cold and Liz was thankful for the velvet cloak that Ginny's mother had insisted on making for her. Professor Longbottom resumed his ill-at-ease demeanor when they entered the confines of the building, but held her arm at his side nevertheless. Liz felt like a true lady for the first time in her life. She smiled shyly at the students that lined the hall, mostly the younger ones that were not allowed to attend the Yule Ball. Several girls whispered behind cupped hands, eyeing the freakish Muggle, no doubt. Liz straightened her shoulders, and lifted her head in conscious imitation of the most posh wizard she had yet met, Lucius Malfoy.

The hall was crowded already. Students and teachers alike milled about talking and creating such a din that Liz almost retreated. It was quite a crush. She looked around as Professor Longbottom relieved her of her cloak and noticed several audible gasps from the females in the room as he did so. A sweet-faced, blond-haired woman made a beeline for Neville as he took Liz's outerwear to the cloakroom. Liz grimaced as she thought of the trouble the Professor might be in.

The room was decorated in ways that Liz could only describe as magical. The charmed ceiling met a room decorated as an icy forest glade. Soft lights winked in and out of the branches of the trees, and a soft non-melting snow lay on the floor in great drifts. Liz almost expected to see a family of deer or a fox and her kits pop up out of the scene. 

She was aware of the interested stares around her, mostly the older boys. She assumed an air of indifference, but was discomfited by the attention she was drawing. She edged towards a small copse of trees nearby, and began studiously watching the lights. To her horror, as she drew close, she could see little people trapped in the lights. No, she corrected herself, trapped to make the lights. 

One of the creatures, surrounded by a sullen red glow, gave her a sorrowful look and Liz reached to touch the poor thing, worrying that it might be in distress. The creature bit her, drawing blood with its tiny, but sharp teeth. “Hey! What'd you do that for?”

The creature responded with a tiny snort and a definite do not touch air. Liz responded, “I'm sorry, I just wanted to see if you were comfortable. Why did they trap you here?”

The creature scowled, and then shrugged. It waved its long fingers and the pain in Liz's finger went away. “Let me see if I can get someone to free you. It doesn't seem right to keep you trapped here, even if you are pretty.”

The creature preened for a moment, then waved off her suggestion. It seemed to be saying with its body language that nothing could be done for it, and it would just endure until the wizards let it free. Liz did not like that attitude. She knew very well what it was like to be entrapped and helpless. Her eyes narrowed and her lips thinned as she turned and crashed right into the chest of Drake. 

His hand found her back, rubbing soft circles as he steadied her. “Do I know you, Miss?”

“What is the meaning of this?” Liz demanded, ignoring his obvious pleasure at her appearance. She pointed at the trapped creature and scowled at Drake, the nearest wizard to which she could express her ire. 

“Liz, they're fairy lights. Muggles have them too.” Drake answered, his bewilderment obvious.

“We _don't_ have them!” Liz said hotly. “Well, we do but they're electric and not living things. These poor things are trapped there, aren't they?” 

“I don't know, I never asked. My father hired people to decorate our house for Yule,” her friend answered. “I don't think they mind though.”

Liz hissed between clenched teeth, noticing their argument was drawing a small crowd, “Did you ever ask them?”

“Oh, for pity's sake, Liz, they're fairies. I doubt they have a brain between them. They just live to look pretty.” Drake ran his hand over her back again, his eyes warming as he did.

Liz shoved his hand away. “Don't try to distract me, Drake. Where is the person in charge of the decorations? I have a thing or two to say to them.”

Neville returned at that moment. Liz spat, “I suppose you knew about this too?”

The Herbology professor's look of surprise was genuine as he stepped back. “What... Has Malfoy done something to you?”

Drake's expression closed for a moment as he leveled a look at Liz's date. “Ms. Cowell has expressed her concern for the well-being of the _decorations_. She thinks the fairies are being held against their will.”

“It must be a Muggle-thing.” Neville muttered.

Liz braced her hands on her hips. “What's that supposed to mean?”

“Oh, yes, Granger and the house elves.” Drake supplied. “What was it called? Spunk or Spree... Something like that.”

“Spew. S.P.E.W.” Neville said blushing. “She made me become a member. I couldn't get the house elves at Gram's to clean my room for two years.”

Liz spluttered, her volume increasing with each word, “You mean those ugly little things that showed me around are slaves too? That's horrible.”

Professor Lepidus approached the group with a small man in tow. He began, “Ah, the lovely Ms. Cowell. Is there a problem?”

Drake rolled his shoulders, as if attempting to dispel the dark looks being cast at their group by students and staff alike. “Not really a problem, sir. It's just that Liz doesn't understand how we wizards celebrate Yule.”

“You don't either,” Liz snapped. “I just got bitten by one of those things because it doesn't want to be here. It's sad.”

The small man stepped forward. “You actually conversed with one of the fairies?”

'Well, not so much, it just let me know it wasn't happy with its body language.” Liz said, realising how much of an idiot she sounded. “It just looked so sad, so I tried to touch it, and it bit me. When I told it why I tried to touch it, it healed me.”

A collective gasp rose from the group surrounding them. The small man exclaimed, “I'm quite impressed. The fairy not only interacted with you but used its magic to heal you? That's quite a boon you were granted. Ms. Cowell, would you be so kind as to show me which creature draws your concern?”

Liz showed the little man the dully glowing creature. “See? It's right there. Can you set it free?”

“Oh, that's quite a gravid little beauty. No wonder she wants to be set free. Next time, little lady, let me know about your delicate condition before volunteering,” the little man said to the fairy sternly. He then flicked a wand and with a small pop, the fairy was loose. It hovered near Liz for a moment, waving its attenuated fingers over her head making Liz feel slightly dizzy for a moment. Then the fairy pantomimed its gratitude and flew away.

“I am Professor Flitwick, Madam. Might I ask you for a dance, later? You are a most remarkable woman.” The little man bowed, and withdrew from her presence as Liz assented.

She turned her attention to Drake and Neville who were standing closely together, struck to silence by the scene they had just witnessed.

Liz thought, with a shake of her head, wizards were an odd lot.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading. Please take the time to let me know what you think.


	18. Chapter 18

Toby ate in constrained silence at the dinner table with Teddy's grandmother, his Uncle Harry and Aunt Ginny and their three children. Scorpius sat beside Toby and mimicked every move the older boy made. Toby shifted in irritated tolerance while Scorpi aped him, as he reflected on the day's events.

Teddy and Toby had said their goodbyes to Rose and her brother, Robert, at the Hogwarts Station. Professor Zabini had ridden with the children, keeping to himself as he watched the horseless carriage draw near Hogsmeade. Rose had been sad, and Robert sullen as Teddy, Toby and Victoire boarded the train. 

Toby had watched his friend from the window of the train as she waved sadly. He felt like his throat was clogging as they rounded the bend and he could not see Rose any longer. The three friends were silent most of the way to London, only occasionally commenting on the things their families had planned during the holiday. Victoire had looked out the window, drawing stick figures and little hearts in the moisture collected on the window. 

They had reached London late in the day. Mrs. Tonks, Scorpi and Father Cavanaugh greeted the two boys. Father, who had been holding a friendly conversation with the older witch, had excused himself and had taken Toby aside. He had given the boy a sack containing nicely wrapped gifts. “Toby, I received your letter just last week, your Professor Zabini delivered it.”

Toby had scuffed his foot against the concrete of the platform, unsure what to say. The man's kind eyes sought the boy's as he lifted Toby's chin. “Son, you have no reason to worry about being a wizard. God created you just as you are, and I'm sure He made no mistakes with you.”

“Thank you father.” Toby said his fears miraculously allayed with those words. “I've missed going to Mass.”

“You are a good boy, as always.” The priest looked around. “I've known Draco for years, and never realised what a strange lot he came from. I was expecting to see you in a flowered robe with a sparrow-filled hat when you got off the Express.”

Toby laughed. “Wizards only dress like that when they want to look more like Muggles.”

“I see.” The priest nodded sagely as he scratched his cheek. “I suppose we should get you back to your party. I hope to see you at Mass on Sunday.”

“Yes, sir.” Toby said, before turning back to the Priest to give him a quick, fierce hug. “Thanks for being here.”

Father Cavanaugh's fingers ruffled Toby's wavy hair softly before he gave him a little push towards Mrs. Tonks. “Your friend's grandmother is waiting. You had best be off. Happy Christmas.”

“Happy Christmas to you too, sir.” Toby waved his goodbye as he dashed off to greet Mrs. Tonks and Scorpi.

Toby returned his attention to the company at hand, his eyes settling on the man that had been introduced as Uncle Harry. When Toby had first met him, it seemed impossible that someone so young had defeated the most powerful Dark Wizard of the age. Mr. Potter's eyes crinkled when they met, and he really talked to Toby and Teddy, as if they mattered. However, Toby noticed, when he thought no one was looking, Mr. Potter's eyes looked sad and a little old, as if he had seen too much too soon. The expressions in them made Toby want to protect and please him at the same time.

All too soon, the boys were ushered off to bed, having opened one gift each. Scorpi had received a fire engine with lots of chrome from the Potters. Teddy had groaned as he opened his present and pulled out pyjamas in Gryffindor red and gold. He grimaced comically as he said, “Thank you Grandmother.”

Mrs. Tonks smiled and returned to her conversation with Mrs. Potter. Teddy whispered, “Don't get too excited, she always lets me open the pyjamas the night before Yule. I bet yours are in Slytherin colours.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Tonks,” Toby said, actually pleased as he pulled out his pyjamas of green and silver. His mum would have never thought of House-colour nightclothes. 

The older woman said. “All right, young men, it's time for bed. Teddy, can you help Toby get Scorpius ready for bed, please?”

“Yes, ma'am.” The two boys stood and bid the adults a happy Christmas, knowing as soon as it was safe; they had some mistletoe to hang.

&*&*&

The dance had been going on for three hours and Liz had not been able to sit down yet. The only time she had really gotten to rest her feet was when she had danced with Hagrid, who was so tall that he carried her like a small child. She had come away smelling like wet dog and treacle tart, but at least her feet were not aching by the end of the song. Several times during the evening, enchanted mistletoe had passed over her head. She had been forced to kiss Professor Flitwick, who had accepted the brush of her lips to his cheek in embarrassed grace. A seventh year boy who was ushered off by a glowering Zabini had also kissed her, rather lustily. Lastly, she and Neville had been caught also about ten minutes ago, and both came away feeling like they had kissed a sibling. Shortly after that event, Neville had made his excuses and gone to talk to the blonde woman that Liz had seen earlier. She had not seen either of them since.

Drake approached her as she sank to a waiting chair. He smirked as she her rubbed her foot, and ruefully asked, “Am I too late to get a dance?”

“Aw, Drake, just sit down with me for a mo, please.” Liz fairly groaned. Drake sat, and slid Liz's foot out of her sandal. He began rubbing the sole, concentrating on the ball of her foot as Liz closed her eyes and gave into the rapture she felt as he eased her pain.

As a soft moan escaped her lips, Drake whispered furiously, “Shit, Liz. Don't make that noise here.”

“What noise? This one?” She sounded off again, opening her eyes and batting her lashes like a lunatic coquette. She growled out another sound, letting her foot slip further down on Drake's lap, wiggling her toes naughtily. “Maybe that one's better?”

“You bloody heathen, don't, or by God, I will take you to the nearest empty classroom and teach you when to it's appropriate to make those noises.” Drake growled back as he pushed her foot off his lap and leaned forward. He pointed his wand at a sprig of mistletoe and it whisked over their heads. “You look delectable, and I've wanted to do this all evening.”

He kissed each of her cheeks right beside her mouth, lingering as he did so. Liz whispered, “When do you think we can leave?” 

“The day's not over until midnight, Cinderella. We've got another hour.” Drake slipped his hand in hers as Professor Flitwick approached.

The little Professor smiled knowingly and asked to join them. Once seated he addressed Liz, “Tell me, Ms. Cowell, have you any wizards or witches in your ancestry?”

“Not that I know of.” Liz answered, her curiosity peaked. “Why?”

“Oh, nothing but my own curiosity. I have always been interested in the mechanism by which Muggles acquire magical ability within their family. You have just provided me with a working theory,” the Professor answered affably. “I believe in a few years, the assistance you rendered the little queen will begin to pay off, as it were. Tell me, did you feel odd after she worked the last bit of magic over you?”

Drake sat forward, his expression suddenly intent. “You mean the bit of finger-waving it did?”

“I got a little dizzy,” Liz answered. “But it went away.”

The Professor sat back, smiling mysteriously as he said, “I'm not quite an expert on fairy and elf magics, I don't know even an iota of that which they are capable, but the movements she made seemed to indicate that, barring accidental death, your lifespan has been increased to that of a normal, healthy witch. The healing she did will protect you from the depredations of normal Muggle illnesses. That is the reason I told you she had given you quite a boon. I do wonder if there might have been a bit of magical ability conveyed to your future children as well, if so, you will have joined the ranks of such heroes as Thomas Rhymer and Osin of the Fiann. As I said before, Ms. Cowell, you are quite a remarkable woman.”

Drake looked at Liz, his expression a mixture of smug pride and admiration.

&*&*&

Toby waited until he saw the lights blink out in the hallway before he rose quietly and rifled through his duffle to retrieve the charmed mistletoe. He looked at his friend, sleeping peacefully and decided not to disturb him. Toby pulled on his dressing gown and placed the object in his pocket along with his wand. 

As he made his way out into the hallway, he was surprised to see a faint glow emanating from the kitchen. He froze, torn between the desire to carry out his mission and the equally strong desire to flee back to the safety of his borrowed bed. He curled his fist around the sickly, limp feel of the mistletoe and made his decision.

He decided the best place to put it would be where there was not much activity. He cast a strongish hover charm, one that Rose had found for him in her search for the Compulsion charms. He watched it for a few moments making certain that it was not too observable and would remain hovering without sagging. His mission complete, he began to return to his room when he heard a soft sniffle coming from the kitchen. He fought the urge to run, deciding instead to creep to the kitchen door to satisfy his curiosity.

He saw Mrs. Tonks sitting at the kitchen table, a glass of amber-coloured liquid in her hand. Two framed pictures sat before her. One was a smiling, dark-haired man who waved and blew kisses at her periodically. He seemed happy in the photo and when she stroked his cheek, he laughed. The other was of a woman who had pink hair and a wan, brown-haired man. The man's face looked like Teddy's and the woman's hair changed colours every so often. The man's warm gaze never left the woman's and the woman would reach down and rub her tummy, with a strange, sly smile on her face. These must have been Teddy's parents. 

Mrs. Tonks took a sip of the liquid, and rubbed a hand under her eyes. Toby thought this was one of those alone times, like his mum had once a year. He knew she did not like to be disturbed when she drank and cried, so he figured that Mrs. Tonks would not like it either. He padded back down the hall to his shared room, a little unsettled as he found that all adults had their sad times, just like children.

&*&*&

Neville passed Liz to Draco, as the blond cut in for the final dance of the evening. Her high colour and laughing smile made Draco hold her lightly even though the band was playing a retro-punk song and all the students around were doing a fair imitation of a frenzied Muggle mosh pit. A young Hufflepuff pushed Liz into Draco's arms, and she took advantage of the situation, kissing him with a forcefulness that almost stole his breath. He was finally able to break free and he moved them off the dance floor, his heart hammering. 

Blaise intercepted them at the doors of the Hall, his face alight with pleasure as he saw Liz's hand in Draco's. He leaned into his friend and shouted over the music, “Leaving so soon? Are you sure you wouldn't like a nightcap before you leave? You know, we could discuss old times and all that.”

“Go to hell, Blaise.” Draco barked his good humour evident in his broad smile. Liz ducked her head to his shoulder, her own intoxicating scent wafting lazily around him. She rubbed his back and then lower and Draco pulled her away from the laughing Professor.

“Draco, you have to get my cloak!” She pulled at his hand. “I'll freeze outside.”

Draco paused, considering. He waved his wand, “ _Accio_ Liz's cloak.”

The cloak flew to them and Draco caught it. He swirled it around Liz's shoulders and fastened it with a flourish. “I am a wizard, Liz.”

“An impatient one.” She kissed him, cupping her hands around his jaws and pulling him closer. “Let's go.”

They Floo'ed from the Hog's Head to Draco's flat. Liz stumbled a little as she entered the room and Draco caught her, letting his hands roam her body, they came to rest on her bum and she snorted. Draco said, in mock pique, “What? You have some soot on you.”

Liz danced away, laughing as she shrugged out of her cloak and threw it at the couch. Draco stalked after her, and drew her to him once more. He noticed the erratic pulse in her throat and the sudden dryness of her lips as she licked them. He kissed the trail of moisture her tongue left, letting the taste and the feel of her wash over him. Her arms slipped around his neck as their kiss intensified. She pulled away, finally, her gaze troubled as she asked, “Drake, am I a fool to be afraid of what we're about to do?”

Draco's mood plummeted. He let go of her and sank to the couch. “Jesus, Liz, have I been too... aggressive tonight?”

“Don't be ridiculous, Drake. I know you'd never hurt me.” Liz sank next to him, her posture sagging as she said, “I mean, what if I'm not good at it?”

Draco let out the breath he had been holding in a huff of laughter. “Come here, kid.”

Liz leaned against him, her body stiff until he enveloped her in his arms.

“I don't think you have much to worry about, kid. You are so responsive and giving, I have no doubt, that when we make love you will be completely breathtaking.” He nuzzled her neck until he felt the chill-blains under his lips. “Now, let's go take a shower, and I'll show you how wrong your fears are.”

“Together?” Liz squeaked as Draco dragged her to her feet. “You're going to corrupt me, Draco Malfoy. I'm a good Catholic girl.”

“And you'll be a clean Catholic girl by the time we're finished.” With those words, Draco stooped and heaved her over his shoulder. She screamed with laughter all the way down the hall.

&*&*&

They spent most of the night exploring each other's bodies and finally fell into an exhausted and thoroughly satiated sleep just before dawn. Draco stirred first, his body aching in muscles he had forgotten he had in the last months. He watched Liz as she slept. Her lashes fascinated him, and the dark smudgy shadows under them, in the early morning light, were lovely. He smiled remembering how he had kissed her eyelids last night. He had wanted to make love to every part of her, and she had given in to his demands with abandon. He had never felt so complete in his life as when he was in her arms, surrounded by her. He felt himself stir again. 

He would never have enough of her.

&*&*&

Liz opened her eyes as Drake left the room. She supposed, since they were expected for Yule dinner at his aunt's house, that she should get up as well, but she just did not think her aching legs would hold her. She also supposed she should feel a total tart for not worrying about missing Christmas morning with her son for the first time since he was an infant. She just could not summon the guilt necessary for the task. She selfishly wanted to hold onto this one perfect moment for a while longer.

She suddenly felt like laughing with joy, so she buried her head in the pillow and giggled into it. Drake was everything she had expected him to be when they made love. He had been elegant, demanding, insatiable, and he had wanted to share himself with her, plain Liz, who was not rich, or posh, or a magical. 

She flipped over on her back, her breasts aching at the thought of his touch on her again. He had made her feel so complete, as if she had been missing a piece of herself until they joined last night. She giggled again at the thought of all the places he had touched and tasted on her body, places that he had claimed as his own. 

She heard his footsteps in the hallway, and she closed her eyes to slits so she could observe him. He slid into bed beside her, his voice heavy with desire as he purred, “I know you're awake, Liz.”

They did not get out of bed until much later that morning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading. Please take the time to let me know what you think.


	19. Chapter 19

Lucius was trapped once again in a hell of his own making. Damn his wife and her faithlessness. The Auror in charge of guarding him, he could not recall the fellow's name, had told him he had not accomplished his murder of her. He was only a little gladdened by the news. Not that it mattered in any material sense, he would still be sent back to Azkaban at the end of his sojourn in hospital. The situation would have been quite laughable, really, if he were not the one going through it.

He had hoped to see his son and grandson today without the bloody Muggle. She made him feel uncomfortable, as if he knew her in some horrific context. He knew he had seen her before, but just could not place where. Draco obviously had some feelings for the girl, but mixed marriages were doomed from the start. Muggles were just too fragile and did not have the lifespan that wizards possessed. After his work during the war, he felt no hatred to Muggles as a general rule, maybe a little contempt, but that was all. That his son would be subject to more loss was Lucius' real objection to Draco's fascination with the breed. He did not want him hurt again. He would have to discourage the union somehow, whilst trying not to alienate his son in the process. 

He felt himself becoming agitated so he turned his thoughts to his immediate concerns. The damned _doctor_ treating him, whose name he could never remember, was not even a proper Healer. She had him hooked up to tubes and devices that emitted unearthly sounds and dripped fluid into his body. He watched her progress across the interior of the MICU, a preposterous Muggle-sounding name if he had ever heard one, his grey eyes noting the cool way she connected with her colleagues and the professional distance she gave herself with the other patients.

She was quite lovely, if one liked hourglass figures, limpid almond eyes, and soft, exotic perfumes. Bloody hell, she had seen him watching her and she had flushed. Lucius' groin tightened at the red tinge of her skin and the fluttering of her lashes evoked by his notice. He ran through the Arithmantic tables he had been forced to learn as a boy, trying to distract his wayward body from its arousal. It would not do for the doctor to see she had an effect on him. He was a bloody convict for Merlin's sake; his pride would not allow him to feel something for a woman who probably felt nothing but contemptuous pity for him. 

She entered his cubicle smiling slightly at him. His single-minded todger reacted to her presence and he clumsily smashed it down under his nearly dead right hand. He felt his face and neck heat, as if he were a bloody teenager with raging hormones and no control. An involuntary moan escaped his mouth as the pressure of his hand caused unexpected pleasure. She sat on the edge of the bed, pulling her Muggle doctor gear out and flashing a light in his eyes. “Mr. Malfoy, are you in pain?”

 _All concern, that one, and not a practical brain in her head._ Lucius pressed his eyes shut, letting a hissing breath out through his lips. He felt her raise his hand even as he attempted to resist. She uttered a soft, throaty, “Oh.”

He opened his eyes to slits, observing the thoughtful expression on the Doctor's face. “Well, you must be feeling better, anyway, Mr. Malfoy.”

His eyes flew open and he cast a look of hauteur at her as well as he could with half his face dead. “Call m-me what... am. Pah-prisoner Malfoy.”

“Are you feeling a little sorry for yourself today?” she asked, shifting so that she could see his face better. “You know it won't make things better for you.”

“You should... Family, yours today.” Lucius knew the words were wrong, but could not get his faulty brain to make them right. 

The doctor looked at him, her face a study in perplexity, until she said, “Oh, no, I'm Hindu. Yule isn't really a holiday I celebrate. That's why I volunteered to work.”

“You sure that's all?” Lucius tried to give a rakish grin, and knew he had succeeded when the doctor blushed again.

“You really are the most charming man, Lucius Malfoy,” she said, her smile like the... bloody hell, who was that Italian baggage that the other Italian had painted? She hung in the French place, with all the other paintings...

“Mona Lisa,” he said aloud, his voice triumphant.

The doctor laughed, a low noise that hinted at dark pleasures and heated depths. “Thank you. Anytime you want to give me outrageous compliments, just call my name. I must be off now.”

“Mona Lisa,” Lucius whispered as she stood. “Your name.”

&*&*&

Toby greeted them at the door and dutifully kissed his mother and grandmother, then bowed to Draco. Draco ruffled the child's hair. “Why the formality, little man? And where's my Scorpius?”

Draco felt as if a ball of blond lightning hit his legs as his son barrelled into him. He picked him up and snuggled every sticky inch of him against his own body. “Did you miss me?”

“Yep, and Aunty Lizzie too.” Scorpius reached toward Liz, nearly overbalancing as she just barely caught him.

Liz scooped him out of Draco's arm and then bent to kiss her son's cheek. Toby manfully bore the attention, but Draco noted with some amusement that he backed away and rubbed the spot he had been bussed with his hand. “Mum, you'll get junk on me.”

Andromeda, who had been standing with her grandson, hands folded, moved forward gracefully, and relieved the older Muggle of her wrap. “Come in, please, you must be Liz's mother. It's so nice to meet you.”

“M'name's Bertie,” Liz's mother said, her harsh East End accent a short staccato. “Drake, love, hand me that pudding you shrank. I hope it didn't ruin.”

Draco dutifully handed Bertie Cowell the small pudding then helped Liz out of her coat. He noticed, almost too late, that he had left a rather obvious love-bite low on her neck. He took off his woollen muffler and draped it around her, transfiguring it to a silk scarf. Liz attempted to remove it, pulling a face as she reproached, “Drake.”

He stopped her movement and leaned to her. “Don't take it off unless you want my aunt and your mother to know what kept us this morning, you know, good, clean, Catholic girl that you are.”

Liz flushed and gave him a small shove. “Wanker.”

“Not any more,” Draco smirked then turned to Toby saying in a normal tone, as he squeezed his shoulder, “So, Professor Zabini told me you and your friends have been doing a little extra credit work on mistletoe. I take it you've hung it somewhere that your Mum and me will find it.”

“Merlin, that was supposed to be a secret!” Teddy exclaimed, his hair fluctuating between black and bright reddish orange. “Toby, didn't you tell the One-Armed Prof that?”

Andromeda immediately turned to her grandson. “What have you got up to now, Theodore Lupin? And don't be disrespectful of your professors. I swear; you are more like your mother every day. Sometimes I wish you _had_ taken more after your father.”

“I can't believe he told you,” Toby murmured to Draco. He held his body in a rebellious pose and pouted. “We didn't mean any harm.”

Liz gave Draco a communicating look, then followed her mother and Andromeda to the kitchen as the older witch pulled her grandson behind her, scolding him all the way. Scorpius toddled behind them, no doubt hoping he would be able to sample some of the pudding before dinner. Draco drew Toby to the couch. “Toby, I know things have been hard on you this year, but I would like to ask your permission about something that would maybe make things a little different.”

“What?” Toby's expression changed from sullen to curious. 

“I would like to ask your mother to marry me, and I would like to adopt you,” Draco said, as the boy settled back against him. “Would you let me do that?”

“Yeah! I've got to go tell Teddy.” Toby stood then turned to Draco. “Does Mum know yet that you love her?”

Draco had not really anticipated this reaction. “Uh, yes, I believe she does.”

“Have you kissed her yet?” Toby's expression transformed to that of a protective male.

“Yes.” Draco felt a bubble of inappropriate laughter rise and was unable to meet the boy's eyes as images of the night before flitted across his mind. He had most definitely kissed her. 

The boy gave Draco a considering look as he rubbed his lips across his teeth. “Are you going to ask her today?”

“Well, I thought maybe she would want something more romantic than, 'Would you marry me, and pass the turkey, whilst you think about it,' Toby,” Draco laughed nervously. “I just thought since you were in school... well, no, I wasn't going to ask her today, but soon.”

Toby's eyes narrowed. “No, do it today. She'll like it.”

“Do what today?” Liz asked from the door leading to the kitchen. “The food is ready; your Aunt is a marvel, Drake. She even got Toby to help this morning.”

“Mum, Uncle Drake wants to ask you something.” Toby turned to Draco giving the older wizard a triumphant, tilted-chin look.

“Toby!” Draco shouted, grabbing the boy's arm. “I will... think about it. Later.”

Liz looked between the two, perplexed. “Whatever, you two, just wash up, we're all waiting on you.”

It was then that Draco wondered why he had thought it a good idea to talk to Toby today, of all days

&*&*&

The meal went as well as could be expected, if one considered train wrecks pleasurable. Between Toby's pointed looks, the whispered conversations between the boys and Bertie Cowell's discovery of Liz's love-bite, Draco could not have wished for a more uncomfortable Yule. Andromeda, looking alternately harried and scandalised at the turn of events stood suddenly and broke out a fine cognac. “I've been saving this for a special occasion, and I think today is special enough. It's been years since I've had a family to celebrate Yule with.”

Mrs. Cowell asked Liz in a stage whisper, “Is that how I raised you, to go off with a bloke on the first date and get marked up like some hussy?”

“Mum, it's not what you think,” Liz said, attempting to pull the scarf closer around her neck. “Just leave off, okay?”

Teddy snickered, looking directly at Draco. “I bet Professor Longbottom didn't do that.”

Andromeda, who had downed a glass of the liquor, slid the bottle toward Bertie, who poured some for herself into her water glass. “So, what am I to think? I walk in on you and Drake rolling around like puppies with their tails tied together one day, and the next you're haring off after some Professor to a _ball_ of all things.”

Draco grabbed the cognac and took a belt straight from the bottle. The two older boys stared open-mouthed at the exchange between mother and daughter. Draco felt the fire of the liquor in his blood almost as he swallowed it. Five years he had been sober, and one meal with family was driving him to drink. He raised the bottle again and Liz grabbed it, the contents sloshing as she pulled it away. “Draco Malfoy, that is enough. What can you be thinking?”

Scorpius began wailing and Toby started to say something over the din when Draco slammed his fist on the table. “Silence!”

The room fell silent. “Mrs. Cowell, I gave your daughter that mark, and she is not a hussy. Toby, take Scorpius and Teddy into the parlour. Liz, I need to speak with you privately, if I may.”

Toby gave a whoop. “Mum, he's going to ask you to marry him! Are you going to say yes, please?”

Bertie burst into tears and Andromeda looked stunned. Liz folded her serviette primly and sat it beside her plate, her hands shaking as she did so. Draco noted the dangerous gleam in her eye as she said, “Tobias Reginald Cowell, you need to do as your uncle said. We will talk about your disobedience later.”

The three boys slunk out of the room, Toby with a subdued, “Yes, Mum.”

“Now, Drake, what were you going to ask?” Liz stared straight ahead, her eyes cast down. “I know it can't be what Toby just said.”

“And why couldn't it be? Jesus, Liz, we've known each other for the last five years, last night was pretty damned perfect, and I love you. Why couldn't I ask you to marry me? Today. Right now.” Draco blinked. He had not known the words would spill out of his mouth, until he said them.

Liz looked down at her plate, her voice muffled and lifeless as she asked, “Was that what you were going to talk to me about?”

Mrs. Cowell's sobs took on a hiccoughing quality as Draco answered, “Well, yes. I mean I wanted to wait until I had a ring and could do it properly, but Toby wanted me to do it today and then your mother was... and well... will you Liz? Marry me, I mean? I don't want to risk losing you. I don't think I could stand it.”

“Oh.” Liz stood, lifting a tear-streaked face to his. “I thought you were going to ask if we could see your father today.”

“Well, that too, but... Oh hell, Liz, just forget I said anything.” Draco smoothed a hand over his hair. “It seems I always bollocks thing up with you.”

“Yes.” Liz's voice was uncharacteristically soft as she spoke.

“She said yes, but I don't know what about.” Andromeda leaned forward, asking Bertie, “Do you understand anything that's going on?”

Over her mother's wailed negative Liz said tartly, “Yes, you always bollocks things up. Yes, we can go see your father. And, yes, I will marry you if you really mean it.”

“That has got to be the worst proposal I've ever heard,” Andromeda said. “And that's even after Dora broke a tooth on the ring that her husband put in her pudding.”

Draco scowled at his aunt before he gathered Liz to him. He whispered in her ear. “Yeah, Kid, I really do mean it.”

&*&*&

Andromeda was tidying up in the kitchen after all the gifts had been opened. Liz rose to help, but Andromeda refused. “No dear, you're a guest, just enjoy yourself.”

Draco, who had been alternating between euphoria and utter terror, kissed Liz on the brow and excused himself. He followed his Aunt who had several cleansing charms going on various pots, but had all the china and crystal piled up next to the sink, washing each piece by hand. Draco stood next to her, looking down on her greying hair as he took a soapy plate from her. “I think I owe you an apology for ruining dinner.”

“No, Draco, you just kept up the Black family tradition,” his aunt grimaced. “Are you sure about marrying her? It seemed like you were under a little pressure.”

“You don't say,” Draco laughed. “But, yes, I am sure. I wouldn't know what to do without her in my life.”

“You two suit each other,” Andromeda observed as if surprised. She paused in her chore, letting her hands fall into the soapy dishwater. “What will your parents say?”

“My parents are in Azkaban for the rest of their lives, Aunt. Given the choices they made, I don't think they have much right to have a say in my decisions,” Draco said heavily. His aunt handed him another plate and he cast a drying charm and set it to the side. “I am sorry about what my mother and Aunt Bella did to your family. I never really talked to Nymphadora, but Lupin seemed a good sort.”

“He was a werewolf, Draco, how good a sort is that?” His aunt frowned. “That wasn't charitable of me. He adored my daughter and his son, and to be honest, he reminded me a little of my late husband.”

They continued the chore set before them in companionable silence. Andromeda handed him the last crystal goblet and watched as he cast another Drying Charm on it. “I have something I want to give you. Just wait in here and I'll go fetch it.”

She returned moments later with a small jewellery box gilded with the Black family crest. “Harry Potter gave this to me a few years ago. He inherited the Black family's vault from my cousin, Sirius, along with the family home in London. He thought I might like to give it to Teddy, but to be honest, I don't have many fond memories of my family.”

Draco opened the ancient box carefully. In it lay a plain platinum band and a large diamond ring in an old-fashioned, square cut. Andromeda said, “It belonged to Phineas Nigellus' second wife. She was Muggle-born. I can't think of a person it would suit better than your Liz.”

“I don't know what to say,” Draco managed. “’Thank you’ doesn't seem adequate.”

Andromeda put her arm around his waist. “Just make her happy, Draco. That will be thanks enough.”

“I'll try,” Draco said, hugging his Aunt shyly. “But now I've got some mistletoe to make a grand gesture under.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The idea for Phineas Nigellus' second wife being Muggleborn came from Kerichi, a writer of all things Lupin/Tonks on fanfic.net.
> 
> The seventh story in this series, entitled **Forgiveness** is now being posted on this site. It's a story about Snape and his new life in the states.
> 
> Thanks for reading. Please take the time to let me know what you think.


	20. Chapter 20

Lucius was reflecting on his day when Draco entered the room. He brought with him the Muggle, his grandson, and a new boy - no doubt the Muggle's spawn. The older boy hung back behind Draco and the elder Malfoy could not yet see him clearly. Lucius liked the situation in which his son was embroiled even less. He inclined his head with the proper amount of decorum to his family and merely let his eyes flick over the Muggle and her get.

“Happy Yule, father.” Draco leant in and kissed Lucius's cheek; he had not done so since he was a child. The Muggle stepped forward with his grandson, hoisting the boy so that he might do the same. Draco brought the new boy to the fore. “Father, this is Liz's son.”

“Lestrange.” A jolt of recognition went through Lucius, nearly propelling him physically in its strength. He sought the eyes of the woman as he whispered in horror, “You.”

“Yes, sir, Liz Cowell; you rescued me from Drake's uncle.” The woman's unflinching aplomb impressed Lucius, no matter how reluctantly he wanted to admit it. “I thought you knew, or I wouldn't have sprung Toby on you like this.”

Lucius laughed. “Toby. Tobias? Sah-nape”

“The Dark Man's middle name,” Liz supplied. “Yes, he was there when I was in labour. I named Toby in his honour.”

“Boy, come.” Lucius gestured imperiously for the boy to come forward. “You're... magic?”

The boy looked at his mother in confusion and then Draco, before his eyes darted back to Lucius. The elder Malfoy snorted impatiently. “I'm sorry, sir. I don't understand,” Toby said shakily.

“You... are a-a...Bah! Wizard?” The boy answered with a swift nod. Lucius sneered. “Half-blood. Gryffindor, no doubt.”

“No sir, I am in Slytherin.” The boy’s look of pride at the proclamation made Lucius smile.

Lucius grasped the boy's chin with his good hand, turning his face to examine it. “I see... great things in you, boy. Like your mother. Mind's strong for a Muggle.”

The boy flushed, anger and pride warring in his expression. “Thank you, sir, I think.”

“Draco, leave,” Lucius commanded, his gaze resting on the woman... no, Liz. “You stay. All else... Leave.”

To the woman's credit, she smiled to cover any discomfort or anger she might have been experiencing at that moment. The gesture reminded Lucius of the cool command that he had so admired in Narcissa in their youth. Draco objected, “Father, I don't think that would be a very good idea.”

“Afraid for me? Against this Muggle?” He made his next word a caress. “Impressive.”

“It's all right, Drake,” Liz said as she sat on the only available chair, gracefully arranging herself in a regal pose, her brown eyes never breaking contact with Lucius's grey ones. After the others left, startling Lucius, for a moment, with her common vowels, she said into the quiet that stretched between them, “I would like to thank you for what you did. I never got the chance.”

“You fought me that night,” the elder Malfoy stated; not really quite sure if the statement was praise or accusation. “I have s-scabs. No. Dammit.”

“Scars, Mr Malfoy,” Liz supplied, a slight smile gracing her face. “And not from me. My rapist gave them to you.”

Lucius was unaccountably saddened by her calm acceptance of her past. More facetiously than he intended, he asked, “What do you want with Draco? Not wealth. Power, maybe?”

“I know you will find it hard to believe, Mr Malfoy, but I do love your son just for who he is.” Lucius scoffed, letting breath hiss out of his nose in a long susurrus. He schooled his features to bland disbelief.

“You're Muggle. Not to be trusted.” Lucius finally said. “Sah-nape's father... like you. Poor, grasping.”

He was gratified to get a reaction, even if it was just a slight colouring of her neck. She lowered her eyes, and then looked into his, the tears clearly present as she said, “And my granddad was like you. My father was weak-willed when it came right down to actually marrying beneath him. He was rich and posh, just like Draco was. His father didn't like my Mum, so my father left me a bastard. Is that what you would want, a weak-willed boy?”

Lucius laughed. “You are... _tres jolie_ angry. I... somewhat… approve, but do not hurt him, stay well... He lost one... Muggle. Damn my brain... I will kill for him.”

The woman stood in a smooth motion, leaning over his bed. “That makes two of us, you old fraud.”

“I am not old,” Lucius said in mock outrage. “Fetch my son. I want to know when... mmm. Fuck it all. Get him, you bloody savage.””

&&&

Draco came out of the conference with his father shaking his head. Liz, who had been watching the boys distractedly, beamed at him as he approached. “I'm glad to see that you survived.”

“Barely.” Draco kissed her and noted with a degree of amusement the avid and disgusted way Toby followed his movement. The boy turned away as Draco sat. “He wants us to handfast, at least before he goes back to prison. He was angry that I slept with Tish without the benefit of a wizarding ceremony. He told me off, and then said he wants to make sure I have a legitimate heir this time.”

“Ooh, I'm going to have an heir? Who would have ever thought?” Liz gushed in affected awe, and then became more serious as she asked, “So, when is he going back?”

“Doctor Patil said he would probably be able to walk using a walker or cane in a fortnight.” Draco chafed Liz's hand between his. “Once he can do that, he'll be transferred back to the prison hospital.”

“I'm sorry, Drake. I wish things could be different for you.” Liz said, leaning against him. “And him. You know, I'm starting to like him.”

Draco shrugged. “My father never let me have any illusions about what would happen if our side lost. I've been prepared for this most of my life. Don't worry about me, Liz. And don't let your guard down with him. He is what he is.”

&&&

Draco escorted Liz and Toby back to their building. Scorpius with his typical unselfconsciousness ran into the flat screaming about having to pee. Liz leant against the door frame, clasping his hand in hers. “You're sure you don't want to stay?”

Draco closed his eyes for a moment, loving the breathy sound of her voice. He opened them again and moved closer. “Kid, I want nothing more than to scoop you up in my arms and take you to bed, but it wouldn't be right with Toby here.”

“At least come in for a quick--” She looked at him mischievously as she licked her lips in the way that made him want to take her right there. “--cuppa.”

“Cheeky minx.” Draco kissed her pouting lower lip, breathing in her slightly musky scent. “Move in with me. We'll handfast next week when my father moves to the new ward; that should satisfy everyone.”

“Not my mum. You know she'll want a church wedding.” Liz's pout increased. “Especially after that horrible proposal.”

“I'm never going to be forgiven for that, am I?” She moved her neck so Draco could nuzzle it; he complied, leaving a trail of sucking nips down to the neck of her jumper. He paused. “Ian too. I need to talk to him… about us.”

Liz huffed. “It's all going to get more complicated from here. Shite, why don't we just have a civil ceremony?”

“No. My father insists on a handfasting, and your mother will insist on a church wedding. No one will be satisfied with a quick elopement, and I want to see you in a big white dress with all the trimmings.” Draco became distracted when Liz ran her hand down his back, pulling him closer in the process.

She pushed her hands under his jumper, drawing her nails up his ribs. He squirmed and started giggling unmanfully. “Stop! I'm ticklish there!”

“You shouldn't let me know these things.” She tickled him in earnest and they both fell to the floor as Draco returned the favour. 

A door opened down the hall. “Goddamn punks, stop yer noise! Some of us have to work tomorrow!” 

The door slammed and Liz put her finger in front of her lips in a hushing motion. “Shh. Someone has to work. Come in Drake, just for a little while.”

Draco clambered to his feet and pulled her up. “All right, but no sex.”

“Sex is the only thing you think about now, isn't it?”

Draco smirked. “No, there's kissing and all sorts of foreplay we haven't gotten to yet.”

“Beast!” Liz shrieked and ran into the kitchen where Toby sat with Scorpius, watching TV. 

Draco ran in after her, only to slide to a stop on the tile floor upon seeing the disgusted look on the older boy's face. Toby said with a sneer. “I hope you don't act like that when you're married to my Mum. She doesn't let anyone run in the house.”

&&&

Liz met Ginny for lunch three days after Boxing Day in a little restaurant in Diagon Alley. She settled into the chair at a table across from a wizard who obviously worked for Eyelops Owl Emporium, if one could tell by the number of feathers clinging to his robes. Liz knew she stood out in her Muggle clothes but really did not care. The Eyelops fellow gave her a condescending look, and Liz smirked back at him. Ginny rushed into the eatery a few moments later, shaking snow off her robes as the _maitre de_ escorted her to their table. The redhead was squirming with unasked questions by the time they were served. Once the waiter had departed, Ginny erupted in a flurry of questions.

“So, tell me how he asked. Was it romantic? I always thought he would be dashing if he asked; was he?”

“It wasn't how I ever pictured being proposed to if that's what you mean,” Liz said, as she stabbed a fork viciously into her salad. “You know how he can be. He lost his temper, and asked me to marry him.”

Liz explained the fiasco surrounding the proposal and Ginny giggled. “I suppose it's better than how Harry asked me.”

“How did he do it?” Liz could not imagine a worse proposal than the one she had had.

Ginny had the grace to blush. “We hadn't seen each other for weeks because he was in training, and I was playing for the Harpies. We had just finished an intense bout of homecoming sex and he was half asleep. He rolled over and said, 'I could stand doing this every day. You wanna get married sometime?' Then he started snoring. I thought he was just, you know, giving me a ‘that-was-a-great-shag’ line, but the next day he came home with a bouquet of pansies and a gorgeous ring.”

“Well, at least that last part was sweet.” Liz laughed. “That's not a story you can tell the kids when they get curious about how he asked. What will you say?”

“The same thing we told my parents. Just the last bit,” Ginny answered, her eyes dancing as she speared a bit of asparagus. After a moment she grew solemn. “So, I imagine you'll have met his father.”

“I have,” Liz said, her tone neutral. “Look, Ginny, I know you have a bad history with Mr Malfoy, but I think you should know that it was him and Severus Snape who rescued me from my rapist. There were other women who he helped too.”

Ginny blinked rapidly, her mouth opening and shutting as if she had something to say, but could not put the thought into words. Liz looked around the restaurant, suddenly struck by how much of Drake's world she had come to accept in the last five years. The redhead shook her head. “Liz, that doesn't make sense. If he helped all those women, why wasn't it mentioned at his trial?”

“I suppose because we were a dirty little secret in your world,” Liz answered, her tone even, but her guts clenched, feeling tight and sore. “Drake and Hermione have been looking into the reasons, but so far they haven't come up with anything.”

The two women returned to their meals, letting the silence spin between them. Liz finally offered, “You know, he told me he almost approved of me and Drake, and he was quite charming in his posh nasty way.”

“Just be careful with him, Liz. He's not a nice man.” Ginny grimaced. “I should know.”

Liz pulled a face. “That's what Drake told me, too.”

&&&

Ian Cavanaugh was sitting behind his battered desk, sorting through the bills for the quarter. Draco could tell from the frown on the man's face. Ian always claimed that there were never enough funds to stretch between the soup kitchen and the half-way house. Draco wished his father could help out. Lucius had a way of charming people out of their money. Draco suspected that if his father had not been a Malfoy, he would have made an excellent grifter.

Ian peered up over the recently acquired reading glasses that had been prescribed almost a year ago. The funds the church had set aside for the glasses had been used to repair a leaking toilet in the half-way house. The older man whipped the glasses off his face, secreting them in a pocket in his suit-coat. “I'm sorry, I didn't notice you. Come in, Draco.”

The priest stood, enveloping Draco in a warm, brotherly hug. “I hear congratulations are in order.”

Draco was relieved to hear the happiness in Ian's tone. Tears formed in his eyes, unbidden and sudden. “I'm sorry, Ian. I should have... Tish.”

“Nonsense, Draco. I've been wondering for years when you were going to notice that Liz was a woman.” The priest settled Draco into a chair beside the fireplace, now connected to the Floo-network so that Draco could contact him with ease. Ian stared into the fire for a moment before adding, “Tish was my sister, and I know how adamant she was about wanting you to be free once she died. I was never in agreement with her on that. She was wrong not to marry you, but I'm sure she's happy that you've found Liz.”

Ian rang for the housekeeper who grumbled into the room. “Mrs Pringle, could you bring tea for us, please?”

The elderly woman sniffed upon seeing Draco but came back with a steaming pot and two cups. Draco busied himself pouring, remembering the times that he and Tish had tea in front of that very fireplace in the beginning. A cool draft whipped down the hall, ruffling Draco's hair almost affectionately. He shivered and turned to Ian, starting off with the thread of conversation they had left off with the last time. The two men settled into their usual discussion of politics and religion, all well between them. 

&&&

Liz and Toby spent the next fortnight moving bits of their flat over to the Malfoy's. Toby was excited about finally getting a father, and talked incessantly about what role he expected Draco to fulfil. To the older wizard's credit, he listened respectfully, noting how many times the boy hugged him. Toby was never the most outwardly affectionate child, and Draco appreciated the importance this change in status had in the boy's mind. If he had not already loved the boy, he would have fallen hard with each happy smile or whispered confidence. 

New Year's Day came and soon it would time for Toby to go back to school and Lucius back to prison. Draco and Liz were handfasted by a Ministry official on New Year's Eve thanks to the efforts of Ginny Potter, who knew someone that owed Harry a favour at the Ministry. Draco had never really appreciated how formidable a friend the former Weasley could be.

On an impulse, he invited both Harry and Ginny to witness the event, but both declined once they were informed that the ceremony would be conducted in the hospital so Lucius could attend. Liz's mother had declined also, saying that the two would not be married unless by a priest in a proper church. 

So they ended up in the high-security ward at St. Mungo's with Padma Patil and the Auror sent to guard Lucius as witnesses. Ian had volunteered, wanting to see how the wizarding ceremony differed from the pagan tradition but was unavoidably detained by another plumbing crisis in the halfway house. 

Draco felt miserable about the whole affair and promised himself that Liz would not begin married life without a honeymoon. Once they said their goodbyes to Lucius and packed Toby onto the Hogwarts Express two days later, Draco arranged an overnight Portkey to Venice. It took most of his savings, but he was able to arrange accommodations in a wizarding hotel in which the Malfoy name still carried some weight.

He was enthralled by her exclamations at delight over the sights he had seen many times before. The Malfoys, before the war, had owned a villa not far from the Piazza San Marco. Liz had grown quiet when Draco had pointed it out. That evening, as they prepared to dine, Liz asked, “Do you ever wonder what your life would have been like if you still had all that?”

She was sitting at the vanity brushing her hair, her dressing gown open at the throat, exposing the soft rise of her breasts to his gaze. He considered for a moment, giving the question the same weight she had. “No. I know what it would have been like. I would have followed in my father's footsteps and become an utter bastard. I was well on my way to that fate before the war.”

“D'you miss it, though?” Liz paused, her eyes searching for his in the mirror.

Draco sat beside her on the old-fashioned bench seat and leant, his chin on her shoulder, looking at her eyes in the mirror. “Yeah, sometimes, but then I think, if I still had all those things, I never would have Scorpius and I would have never met you, Toby and Ian or your Mum. I would still hate Potter. And I would have never gotten to know my aunt. My life is much better without meaningless possessions.”

“It would be nice though, just once, to wear a diamond tiara and dress in silk knickers.” Liz smiled to ameliorate the longing in her tone. “Let's stay in. I want to do some real honeymoon things. And we haven't explored all that foreplay you talked about.”

“That's my girl.” Draco kissed her neck and then lower until she was breathless. They ordered in that evening.


	21. 21

**_DEATH EATER WEDS WOMAN HE RAPED_ ** __

_Rita Skeeter_

_The Malfoy clan has proved, once again, its amoral character as Draco Malfoy married Muggle rape-victim Elspeth Cowell in a ceremony attended by Lucius Malfoy, former right-hand to He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. Anonymous tipsters said the 'wedding' was a dismal affair in the High-Security Ward at St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies. The distressed bride wore black in honour of the shame she felt, and her tearful mother was barred from attending._

_Lucius Malfoy, it should be noted, was moved to the Maximum Security Unit of Azkaban, after he attempted to his murder loving, and browbeaten wife, Narcissa Malfoy. Reports state that Madam Malfoy has filed for divorce from the Malfoy scion on grounds of abuse and violence. The elder Malfoy attempted suicide, in a cowardly attempt to put off his just punishment, and has suffered a well-deserved mental breakdown as a result._

_Draco Malfoy, who served six years in Azkaban, for his part in the murder of Albus Dumbledore, (former Headmaster of Hogwarts, one-time High Mugwump, and founder of the Order of the Phoenix,) was rumoured to have Confunded none other than Harry Potter, self-proclaimed Savior of the Wizarding world, and obtaining a sensitive position in the Ministry of Magic's new Muggle Liaison Education Office, no doubt to perpetrate further crimes against the untold numbers of women he raped. He also spent time in a Muggle Blood-Cult's halfway house after a bout of drug addiction says another anonymous source who treated him for that addiction during that time. The source, a respected Healer, says she was forced to administer aid to the former Death Eater on pain of torture and was later compelled, by blackmail, to sleep with the Death Eater, even while she was engaged to another._

_Draco Malfoy has a son, Scorpius Francis Malfoy, by a Muggle social worker who died under extremely mysterious circumstances some five years ago._

_The younger Malfoy, it is also said, employed the Imperius Curse to compel his new wife into reprising the role of the rape victim. A role, it is said, that he forced on her once before during the Voldie-war. Elspeth Cowell's son, Tobias Reginald Cowell, a product of that brutal act, who is currently attending Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, was reported to be beside himself during the ceremony, clutching at his mother's hands and begging the cursed woman not to marry her rapist. Doctor Padma Patil, who is rumoured to have become cosy with the elder Malfoy since his sojourn at St. Mungo's witnessed the debacle._

_It is odd, to this reporter, that the tragic Ms. Cowell was reported to have been escorted to the Yule Ball at Hogwarts, just days before, on the arm of Professor Neville Longbottom, but was forced to leave in the company of Malfoy and fellow Slytherin and rumoured Death Eater, Professor Blaise Zabini. (See page 10 for details on Zabini's personal struggles to rid himself of his mad wife, Pansy Parkinson.) One wonders if the new Headmaster, Leonis Lepidus, is up to handling the intrigues of the evil men he has employed..._

&&&

Draco crumpled the Daily Prophet between his fists, his magic crackling across his skin as he attempted to control his fury. Liz, cooking breakfast for their little family, shot him a questioning look. “Bad news?”

Draco, unable to formulate an answer that would not give away the vile contents of the article, practiced the breathing exercises that Severus had taught him as a small boy. Liz put the frying pan off the electric ring and padded over to him in her bare feet. She sat next to him in the chair at the table that had become 'her' chair. Draco forced a smile. “KId, we must get Scorpius to playschool, and open the office today. I'll let you read it later.”

Liz leant into him, kissing him thoroughly before she said, “Okay, but it must be bad if you're so angry. Your face is all bunched up and red.”

“It's nothing, kid.” He answered as evenly as he could. When she drew a breath to say more he snapped. “Liz, just leave off. I told you, it's nothing.”

He tucked the paper under his arm and stalked out of the kitchen, calling loudly for Scorpius, who still lay abed.

&&&

Lucius was in the prison infirmary eating his breakfast of runny gruel and powdered eggs when he received a visit from a very angry Doctor Mona Lisa. Lucius paused in his activity long enough to give her a look of mild interest. He patted his mouth delicately with the paper serviette provided him and cocked an eyebrow in question. She stood, arms akimbo for a moment, scowling at him in such a pretty way. “Don't act like you don't know what's going on, Mr Malfoy. I know you've read the article”

Lucius, smirked, looking purposefully around the room as if he were missing the fact that he had no morning paper. The doctor mumbled, “Of course.”

She then proceeded to prod and poke him with her alarming Muggle instruments, before adding, “You need to speak, otherwise you'll lose the ability.”

“I already am lost,” Lucius said, then shook his head. “Have... lost.”

She continued to look at his body, placing cool professional hands on his person. A thing he enjoyed immensely, to his chagrin. “Your aphasia is increasing. You were speaking more clearly at St. Mungo's. If you don't follow my orders, I will not return. Do you want that?”

Lucius caressed her hand, proceeding up to her elbow wanting to rattle her, make her notice he was a man. “Bitch.”

He heard the word and knew it was wrong even before she recoiled, her eyes flashing in indignation. He assembled his face in an approximation of contrition before saying, “Not what I wanted... to say. Sorry.”

“I know that,” she snapped. “You mustn't touch me, Mr Malfoy. It crosses professional boundaries.”

“Bah! Boundaries... I've crossed so many.” Lucius spat. “One more no pain”

He touched her hand again, letting his thumb revel in the plumpness of her cinnamon-coloured flesh. It had been so long since he had been able to engage in even a mild flirtation. He loved way her pulse raced as he picked up her hand a placed a soft kiss on the palm. She hissed, “Lucius.”

He could not tell whether she was issuing was a warning or a request until she jerked the object of his ardour from his grasp. Mona Lisa retreated to the corner of the curtained off area, drawing her wand from her one pocket as she fumbled in the other. Lucius reacted by throwing his bowl of gruel at her head. The Merlin-be-damned woman was no better than Narcissa with her moods and threats. The bowl landed with a thud against the other far wall. “Now I mean it. Bitch!”

Lucius had forgotten, for the moment, that he was no longer free to give into his fits of pique. A burly trustee rounded the curtain and placed him in a body bind, tweaking the spell so that it caused cramping pain. The man, noted for his sadistic tortures of the other inmates, cast a wordless Crucio, smiling as Lucius bit the side of his cheek. Admittedly the Dark Lord's curses had been much worse in intensity, but being bound increased the agony. He felt himself begin to shake involuntarily and embarrassing warmth spread across his crotch. Then, just as suddenly, the body bind and the curse ended. Lucius recoiled, curling into a foetal position to both hide his shame and find relief. He spat the blood that had pooled in his mouth in a coughing splutter. He heard moaning apologies and realised the words came from him. 

Then, familiar cool hands were on his face, neck and body, and drugs and potions were being administered to calm his shattered nerves. Lucius slept.

&&&

Toby's day had gone to crap the minute the Owls had arrived. The Great Hall buzzed with the whispered conversations and hateful looks cast his way. At first, not having taken a look at the Daily Prophet, he shrugged off the attention he received. He had gotten used to the rumours of the Gryffs since he had come back from Yule break. It was only when one of the Seventh Year Slytherin girls passed him the article with an apologetic smile, that he understood. Rose, sitting several seats from him, shoved her way past her the others, still clutching her copy of the offensive article. “Tobe, don't let them see you react. You know what the truth is.”

Toby, wanting to cry, sucked in the emotion and fixed a haughty glare above the heads of the other tables. Through lips stiff with repressed anger, he said, “Thanks, Rose.”

She sat next to him. “Eat your breakfast. Well, what you can, and act normal.”

He moved the food around his plate with his fork, his stomach roiling at the prospect of actually putting it in his mouth and swallowing. Rose leant in, whispering, “You don't look well, do you want me to get the One-Armed-Prof? I don't know where he is right now, but I could try to find him”

“Yeah, that'll look real normal, Rose. You running around screaming for the Prof.” He stood and walked resolutely out of the room, not really caring where he headed, or that he was about to skive off for the first time in his life.

&&&

Liz finished scanning the article, not knowing how to feel about the outrageous lies in it. She opened her mouth to reassure her husband when a phrase caught her eye. “Bloody hell, Drake, the old hag named our sons. We'll sue her.”

“Good luck with that, Liz. We'll have to go through Wizarding courts and right now, I don't think anyone will take the case.” Drake's tone was bitter as he looked out of the window of the office. 

Liz noted that in years past, the first day the office opened after the holidays had been hectic, with interviews to catch up on, and frantic parents trying to keep their magical children from being discovered. Today had been dead, except for the Owl Post delivering Howlers and Poisoned Pen Letters addressed to her husband. More wearing was the outpouring of sympathy and offers of rescue that Liz was received. She was quite the cause celebre in Wizarding circles right now. She placed the paper in the rubbish bin and wrapped her arms around Drake's midriff from behind. “I know the way you think, Drake. Right now you're blaming yourself for the rubbish this woman wrote, thinking you should have stayed away from Toby and me.”

Her husband leant his head against the glass. “You're right, and I should have. I suppose it's too late for that now. Our life will always be like this, Liz, whether we stay out of the public eye, or not. There will always be whispers about our pasts.”

“D'you think I care?” Liz made sure her voice was gentle and without reproach. She really wanted to see how deep her husband thought her commitment was.

Drake turned to her, his mouth hard and his eyes the saddest she had seen since Tish's death. “More's the pity, Liz, I know you don't. I love you for that.”

She kissed him, devouring his rage and pain, trying to ignite his passion. They may as well make use of the office if no one else would. Well into a long snogging session in which Liz had somehow been made to sprawl over the desk on her back, they heard a small bossy voice coming from the Floo. “Malfoy? I know you're there. I checked at your house already. I'm coming through.”

“Granger.” Drake breathed as he laid his head on Liz's chest. He looked at her with his stormy, passion-glazed eyes. “Stall her, while I get myself under control.”

Liz pulled her jumper down and smoothed out the skirt that had been rucked up around her waist. She was patting her hair into place when she entered the main office. Hermione looked decidedly embarrassed as Liz greeted her. “It's so good to see you, Hermione. Can I get you some tea or coffee?”

“No thank you.” The brunette looked around the room, smiling as she said, “I should have guessed the office would be painted Slytherin green.”

“Drake never said.” Liz huffed. “I just thought he painted the room green because it's my favourite colour.”

“Oh, and congratulations on your marriage. Though, I suppose, with the Prophet article...” Hermione looked away. “I just want you to know, that not everyone believes what's published in that rag.”

“I should hope not, Granger,” Drake said, entering the room. Liz almost laughed. He had buttoned his robes wrong and one end was drooping while the other end was pulled up past his knee. She dared a glance and Hermione, whose eyes were dancing. Both women burst into gales of laughter. Her husband raised his eyebrow, expressing his irritation at their foolishness. “What?”

Hermione was the first to gain her voice. Looking pointedly at his robes, she said, “You look rather buttoned-down today, Malfoy.”

“Oh, bloody hell.” He righted himself, then asked, “What do you want, Granger?”

Hermione's reply held just a hint of mirth. “I'm here to give you some very good news, Malfoy.”

Draco leant against Liz's desk, his arms crossed. “And that would be?”

“Well, first off, I found the original interrogation records from after the war, and your father and mother did mention the fact that they had worked for the Order.” Hermione warmed to her subject. “I cross checked the document the Auror's Department gave me, and your father had been working for the Order since 1995, well before he was arrested for the Ministry incident.”

“This helps, how?” Drake asked. “I already gave you that information.”

Hermione beamed at both of them. “ Well, that's where my second point comes in. I've got the original Lettres of Intent that your father signed in the presence of Albus Dumbledore and Severus Snape, showing that he switched allegiance on June 12, 1995. They were secreted behind a compartment in the frame of Phineus Nigellus' painting in 12 Grimmauld Place. It's really funny, I carried that painting with me during the war, and never noticed it.”

“Ha, ha. Very amusing, Granger. My parents have spent the last eleven years locked up in Azkaban because your sainted Dumbledore hid the papers that would help exonerate them.” Drake lurched forward, his fists clenched. “So, how did you come to find the secret compartment?”

“Phineus told me,” Hermione mumbled.

Drake slapped his palm against the desk. “What was that?”

“Drake,” Liz warned, as she stroked his back. “She is trying to help.'

Her husband spared her a heated stare, then pulled Liz's hand to his lips. “You're right kid. Sorry, Granger, I guess my Malfoy temperament is surfacing today. Now, why don't we discuss this over lunch? It might make my disposition better”

&&&

Narcissa read the article with relish, noting the fact that her blood-traitor son and her vicious husband had somehow decided that a Muggle would be an acceptable addition to the Malfoy line. She was glad she had decided to divorce herself from the situation, it was strengthening her position with the other incarcerated wives. So much sympathy had been displayed that she now had the choicest seat by the window, and the pick of the care packages sent by various charity organisations. Poor little Narcissa, who had been half-throttled by her soon-to-be ex-husband, and betrayed by her weak son.

Her visits with the warden had become quite satisfying. She would have to make sure the man's wife was out of the way before she could make her next bid, with him. She was aiming for total freedom, no matter who she had to service. Lucius could rot in Azkaban for all she cared. 

Luckily she would be divorced from Lucius in a few days. The warden had used his influence to expedite the process, pleading that her life was in danger if she was still married to her former husband. She smiled, the sad one she used to cover her gloating. Her little,whispered innuendoes to Rita Skeeter had paid off as well. It was only a matter of time before she had everything she wanted.

&&&

Toby found himself on the Astronomy Tower, his favourite place to get away from everything. He had been up there for hours if he could tell by the slant of the sun. He sat, slumped against the far battlement, tears now only falling occasionally. He had really hoped that having Uncle Drake as a dad was going to solve all his problems. Instead, he had a whole new set. What that reporter woman had said about his mum was just crap. She hadn't cried and, yeah, Grandma had not come, but that was because she wanted Mum and Uncle Drake to be married in the church, by Father Cavanaugh. 

Toby knew that he looked nothing like Uncle Drake too, so he could not be his son like Scorpi was. Maybe Uncle Drake would not even want him to be his son after this. Toby felt the tears threaten again, so he cradled his head on his knees. Maybe he should just go to regular school and forget about being a wizard. Then his Mum and Uncle Drake would not even have to deal with the Wizarding world at all. He wondered if he could sneak to the Owlery to get a message off like that. 

He did not know how long he sat there, shivering and in misery until he felt a hand rest on his shoulder. “Mr Cowell, you missed class today.”

Toby shrugged, trying not to let the tears start falling again. Trust Professor Zabini to be the one to find him. Toby knew The One Armed Prof was disappointed in him. “Sorry.”

“I did too.” Toby felt the Prof sit next to him as his cloak billowed into his face.“I was glad to hear about your Uncle Draco and your mother.”

“Thanks.” Toby managed. “Sir, you said you missed class today too, was it because of what that newspaper said?”

The Professor was quiet for so long, that Toby thought he was angry about the question. He peered up at the man's face with a little trepidation. Professor Zabini's face was a blank mask, only the glittering of his brown eyes betrayed that he was not a statue. After a few more moments, the older wizard replied, “Yes.”

“Oh.” Toby's voice was small and soft, even to his ears.“I'm sorry, sir.” 

The Professor's tone was bitter as he answered, “So am I.”

&&&

“I've decided to take the case, Malfoy, there will be no argument.” Hermione uttered the pronouncement as if there were anyone else that would take it. Draco sat back in the booth, glaring at her.

“You say that as if you were the only party involved in the matter.” Draco began, covering his elation at her willingness to help. “My father has his reason for not wanting the matter investigated.”

Liz curled her fingers around his hand. “Drake, let her talk.”

“You're correct. His original deal with the Order was made to protect you only.” the Know-It-All replied, as she fussed with the rim of her water bottle. “That deal, however, was no longer binding, once you were convicted of using an Unforgivable on Madam Rosemerta. It, in fact, was nullified. I think I can argue that your entire family was wrongfully convicted for war crimes. The acts, themselves, would be deemed necessary actions to preserve your family's cover as spies.”

Draco snorted. “Sure.”

“I'm serious. If your family had access to even moderately adequate counsel, you would have gotten off with a fine.” The bushy-haired brunette said. “Draco, I might even be able to get your possessions returned to you, along with reparations.”

It was that moment that an Owl found them, a Howler attached to its leg. Draco banished the missive with a flick of his wand, then addressed the owl. “Shove off, mate, if you know what's good for you.”

It gave a dismissive hoot and shook its wings haughtily then took off. Draco asked, “Could you do something about the Skeeter article too?'

The bossy Gryffindor smiled, an evil little smirk that Draco would have been proud to bear in his youth. “Most certainly. So, you'll let me proceed?”

“Yes,” Draco smirked back. “Most certainly.”


	22. 22

Lucius lay in the twilit world between medicated wakefulness and dreamless sleep. A soft hand caressed his brow and hair, and nonsense words were being spoken above him. He moaned softly, attempting to open his eyes, which seemed to be stuck shut. Mona Lisa's cultured voice spoke, “Shh... Lucius, you'll be all right.”

He leant into the hand and slept again, surprised that the pain of the cursing he had suffered was just a dull ache, rather than the roaring inferno it usually was.

&*&*&

Draco turned to the last page of the paper, his brow furrowed. Granger had said there would be a mention of his family's case in the Daily Prophet in the next two days. That had been three days ago, and he was losing faith in the outspoken Gryffindor. He had sent Scorpius and his wife to his Aunt's house for the duration of the furore. He did not need to worry about them right now when he and Granger were working. Both Malfoy and Granger-Weasley families had received death threats when the Gryffindor had revealed her knowledge of his family's involvement in the war, in the Quibbler of all the rags. Hermione's children were staying at the Burrow. Both locations were being Secret Kept. Blaise and Longbottom were keeping an eye on the situation at Hogwarts.

Draco dragged a hand across his mouth, wishing that he had been born a Longbottom or been sorted into Hufflepuff—anything but a Slytherin or a Malfoy. He then pressed his fingers against his temples, willing the dull headache that had been present when he woke, away. He missed Liz. He missed Scorpius. He missed the anonymity that his Muggle-flat in the East End had once afforded.

A sharp banging on his front door brought him back to himself. He shouted in answer to the loud noise, “Hold your bloody horses!” 

He had prepared this morning for the inevitable arrest, Potter had warned him about. The Ministry was not well pleased with the discovery of the documents and had begun probing the allegations of one Rita Skeeter, who had mysteriously vanished in the last few days. Draco was expecting to be arrested any moment. It seemed the moment was at hand. 

He stood, smoothing his hands over his hair, adjusting his robes, steeling his mind for the coming events. He strode to the door, his tread softened by the thin rug, one of Liz's homely additions. The rap sounded again, this time accompanied by a warning shout. Draco flipped his wand immediately into his hand. “Let me release the wards, dammit!” 

What a dismal difference a few days made. Draco began releasing the wards.

&*&*&

“I told you his dad was a Death Eater.” Toby heard a snide female voice say from around the corner where he skulked in the library. He sank further into the chair, letting only his eyes and crown of his head show over the back of the chair.

“His mum's a fuckin' collaborator... I heard they have orgies while the little Slytherin shit watches...” A male voice joined in, with a little scoffing hint of laughter. “Fuckin' perv is what they all are. My mum sent me the article where Skeeter...”

“You two should mind your own business, and leave the poor mite alone.” Then came a third voice, this one male and quietly outraged. Toby peeked at the three participants. It was a seventh-year Gryff that spoke in his favour to two other seventh years of the same house. Toby blinked in surprise.

The original male scofflaw turned to the interloper. “Yeah, what're you gonna do?”

“Stop you from speaking about him ever again.” Toby's apologist said his voice low and dangerous.

The girl spat, her tone contemptuous as she added, “Ronny Leech, You're just still mad about Skeeter exposing your father as a cheat and a scoundrel.”

“You're right, because she lied, and my family broke up over it.” Leech's voice broke. “Shut your gobs, Poundstone and Ramayana, or I will shut them for you...”

“You and whose army, Leech?” The other boy asked, and then laughed contemptuously.

Toby heard several chairs in the vicinity scoot back. Multiple voices answered that they would aid the Gryff.

Toby dared to look at the assemblage. Two Hufflepuff fifth-years, a boy and a girl, several years of Slytherins, five Ravenclaws and four other Gryffs ranged around the two, wands drawn, all staring at them with mingled expressions of fear and anger. Toby turned around again, wishing he were anywhere else, but here. All this was because of him, and he hated it.

“What's going on here?” Miss Abbott asked as she hurried over to the group. “Wands away everyone or this will go to your heads of House. Mr Leech, please escort Mr Cowell to the Great Hall, it is lunchtime. The rest of you leave. Now.”

The assembled students went back to their tables, grumbling about the unfairness of the situation. Leech, a ruddy-complexioned brunette with grey eyes, stalked to Toby. “Come on, Cowell.”

Toby gathered his possessions, not looking up at the boy, until the Gryff said, “Sorry you had to hear that, tyke.”

Toby finished stuffing his books in his bag and looked up through his fringe. “Why do you care?”

“Because of my dad... and your cousin. Lupin's been crowing for days about how great your unc... I mean, dad was. He told me how Malfoy proposed to your mum.” Leech smiled. “It was too ridiculous for your mum to accept out of anything but love.”

Toby smiled. “Yeah, I always thought us Slytherins were supposed to be smooth.”

“So did I, tyke.” Leech clapped the younger boy on the back, his laughter ringing as they exited the library. He shook his shaggy head morosely. “My youthful illusions have been shattered.”

&*&*&

Liz had been crying more on than off since she and Scorpius had arrived at the 'safe ' location. She and Drake had only been married a few weeks, and now it looked like they would be separated forever. Nothing would ever be easy with him, she thought and broke into fresh sobs. Andromeda bustled into the room with a steaming pot of tea and two cups. “Now, now, dear, please, no more tears. I'm sure my nephew and Mrs Weasley have a plan. “

Andromeda poured a cuppa for Liz, who accepted it with numb hands and a wooden expression. “Hermione doesn't even like him, Andromeda. She hated me when we first met because she thought we were together.”

More tears leaked out of Liz's eyes as she forcefully put the cup on the side table. “I want to do something for him, but I feel so helpless. And the great prat just sent me away, like I was useless.”

Andromeda frowned. “Dear, may I ask a personal question?”

Liz nodded, a little frightened by the sudden shift in the older woman's demeanour. Andromeda took Liz's hand and asked, her voice troubled, “When was your last... monthly?”

More tears spilt as Liz began laughing, nearly hysterical. She felt the witch's hand on her back, alternately patting and circling, trying to calm Liz. Finally, Liz leant into her, accepting the comfort that she normally would have sought from her mother. She eventually rasped out, “A week ago. I won't even have that consolation if he goes to prison.”

Andromeda settled into the back of the divan, drawing Liz with her. “Love, it will all work out. Have faith in my nephew. He's come out of worse than this before. I think.”

Liz sighed into the older woman's neck and closed her eyes. There was no sense in worrying, she knew, but her gut told her Drake needed her, right now. She closed her eyes and let the tears flow.

&*&*&

Lucius woke with his hand being held by Mona Lisa. He smiled lazily, the one he used to charm Narcissa when he wanted to make love. The look never failed. The doctor pulled a face and tweaked his nose. He gave an outraged huff. “Madam, I am not... an infant. 

“Feeling better then?” She asked tartly.

Lucius nodded, revelling in the feel of her flesh against his. He moved his deadened hand on top of hers, surprised to have so much control and feeling in it. He drew her hand to his lips, sketching a kiss over her dimpled knuckles. “I... do apologise for my... fit of pique, Mona Lisa.”

“Is that what you call launching crockery at someone's head? I'll have to remember that.” Patil smirked a snarky expression that would have made Severus proud. She rubbed the back of his hand with her soap-roughened thumb. “You know I was just trying to show you the article, right?”

Lucius scowled at the mention of the blasted rag. His rage made him incoherent. “Bah... bitch shouldn't be allowed to... breathe... Lies... all.”

“Well, now I've got some more news for you, Mr Malfoy.” The doctor withdrew her hand from his, snaking her hand into her pocket. “I need you to remain calm while I read it to you.”

Lucius folded his arms over his chest. “No guarantees.”

The woman's pointed look silenced Lucius, as no words would have. She began reading, her voice soft and hesitant. “ _Narcissa Malfoy, nee Black, has successfully filed and been granted a divorce from Death Eater, Lucius Abraxas Malfoy. The marriage was dissolved on grounds of extreme cruelty after thirty-four years of matrimony. The couple's son, Draco Eugene Malfoy, now embroiled in a spurious battle with the Ministry of Magic, and under a cloud of suspicion due to his questionable marriage to the Muggle and Death Eater victim, Elspeth Cowell, was unavailable for comment. The ruling came after Lucius Malfoy attempted to murder the former Mrs Malfoy..._ It just goes on in that vein. You don't want to hear the rest do you?”

“Leave me.” Lucius managed, around his closing throat. “Now.”

The doctor gave him one more sad look as she gathered her equipment. “I'm so sorry, Mr Malfoy.”

He followed her exit until she was no longer visible. Then he let the tears spill down his cheeks unchecked. His life was over.

&*&*&

Harry Potter was on the other side of the door, his expression solemn. Draco offered his wand to the man he had learned to call a friend. Potter offered and uncomfortable apology as he took it. “I volunteered to take you in. I couldn't let you be taken by someone who didn't care.”

Draco graced him with a small nod. The Auror's face fell. “I truly am sorry, ferret. I wish it could be different.”

“It's okay, Potty.” Draco forced a smile that was more grimace. “What are the charges?”

“Using an Unforgivable, coercion of a Muggle and breaking the International Statute of Secrecy.” Potter brought out a pair of cuffs enhanced with magical binding spells. He ordered gently, “Turn around; I need your hands behind your back.”

Draco complied, fighting the claustrophobic feeling of the spells that began at his wrists but would spread as he moved. He swallowed nausea that threatened to surge forth. Potter asked, “Do you need a moment?”

“Let's just get this over with.” Draco managed. 

As they exited the building, Potter asked, “So, your middle name is really Eugene?”

“Shut it, Potty.”

&*&*&

Professor Zabini held Toby after class. Toby waited patiently as the last student filed out, ignoring the questioning looks from his friends. He sat behind his desk, waiting for the Professor to acknowledge him. When the older wizard motioned him forward, he went, standing in front of the scarred desk, and trying to sublimate completely his anxiety. “Yes, sir?”

“Please, follow me.” The Professor moved toward the stairs to his office.

Toby complied, not liking the solemn demeanour of his Head of House. Once in the office the Professor Floo'ed for tea, bidding Toby sit. The man retreated behind his desk and templed his fingers in front of his mouth, a contemplative gesture. The wizard did not meet the boy's eyes. Once the tea appeared, Professor Zabini made a show of pouring and placing the oddments before Toby. The boy, finally growing tired of the tension, asked sharply, “Sir, what is the matter?”

Zabini's dark eyes flitted to his face, then away. “Your stepfather has been arrested. I'm sorry.”

Toby's nerveless fingers dropped the fine china cup on the stone floor. It shattered into a thousand pieces as he stood. Someone was screaming and suddenly Toby realised it was himself. He felt the Professor's hands on his shoulders, and a bottle being pushed between his lips. Toby swallowed reflexively and became calmer, but the small room still swam in front of his eyes, and he collapsed, giving in to the tears that had threatened since his afternoon rescue. 

He felt Professor Zabini's arm encircle him and knew the man drew him onto his lap. Nonsense words filled his hearing and Toby closed his eyes against the invasive sights. If he had not pushed his mum and Uncle Drake together, things would be all right. Toby snuggled into his Professor's grasp, eventually falling into a fitful sleep, only a little ashamed that he was acting like a baby.

&*&*&

Hermione was waiting for Draco in the Auror's office, grim and pale under the artificial orbs. She stood as Potter escorted him past her. “Auror Potter, I need a word with my client, please.”

“Trust the bookworm to follow all the niceties,” muttered a grizzled Auror. Draco gave him a two-fingered salute from his cuffed hand. 

Potter tightened his grip on Draco's arm, almost imperceptibly. “Okay, Hermione, you'll be able to see him when he gets to the holding cell.”

“Thank you, Harry.” Draco peered at her as Potter moved him past. She had lost weight since he had seen her a week ago, her hair was pulled back in an indifferent knot, and her eyes were rimmed in dark circles. She looked as if she were running on caffeine and adrenaline, and Draco was sorry for it. When they had started their investigation, he had not foreseen any of these consequences. 

He stopped, making Potter scrape the back of his heel with the darker man's booted foot. Draco suppressed a curse as he addressed his solicitor. “I'm sorry about all this, Granger. Truly.”

“Don't worry about it, Malfoy,” Granger said with a small lift of her shoulders. “I've got it all covered.”

She winked at him and sat back down on the seat she had vacated. Draco felt like laughing for the first time in a week. If anyone could get him out of here, it would be the brightest witch he had ever known. He would have to offer a prayer for her and her family when he was able to go back to St. Catherine's. Until then, he would answer the charges and hope for the best.


	23. 23

Draco had been in the holding cells of Azkaban for a fortnight, awaiting a hearing. In that time, he was forced to relive every bad memory he thought he had shed of his first incarceration in Azkaban and before. He could only guess how bad his incarceration might have been had the Dementors still been around to suck the happiness out of him. As it was, he was finding it less appealing to rise in the morning and perform his daily ablutions or say his prayers, especially since his head had been shaved.

Liz tried to visit, Granger had said, but had been denied access to the prison. The august body mentioned something about the charges before him and how irregular it would seem if the alleged Muggle victim were admitted to see the accused. Hermione had fought the ruling, arguing that several of the prisoners now incarcerated were regularly allowed Muggle visitations. The bid was irrevocably denied until the hearing. It was just as well. He did not want his wife seeing him defeated and depressed. She should have some good memories of him once she divorced him and continued with her life.

He realised how faithless the statement would make her sound, but really, it was a testament to his love for her. He only wanted the best for her, and obviously, he was not the person to supply it. If he were convicted and sentenced, he wanted her to move on. She deserved more than a former Death Eater, prisoner, and wreck of a human being. He should have considered all of this before he ever involved her in his life. He was such a selfish bastard.

He rolled over on his narrow bed, feeling strangely lethargic and slightly feverish, the sensation reminiscent of his days on heroin. He tried not to get used to the luxury of the lumpy bed. Once he was a convicted, he would be lucky to receive a moth-eaten blanket and a flat, sweat-soaked pillow.

A rattling at the door of his cell caught but did not hold his attention. Whoever it was could just come in and do what they wanted. He no longer cared. He closed his eyes, waiting for the pain or the taunting to commence.

&*&*&

Liz sat patiently in the Auror’s office waiting for her name to be called. She had made the trek to London every day for the last fortnight and would continue doing so until someone saw her. Her name had not been called yet, but she knew her persistence was wearing them down. Most days she knitted layette sets and receiving blankets. She was making them for the newborns that lodged at St. Catherine’s sister shelter, St. Theresa's. The Aurors did not need to know that. Let them think she was pregnant. The more pity she generated, the greater her chances were of succeeding in seeing her husband. The ploy had been Harry Potter’s idea, and it seemed to be working as well as anything else had, which was not at all. It was almost five o’clock, time to contact Andromeda and make her way back to the cottage, but Liz gave herself a few more moments as she began slowly putting away her supplies. Once done, she moved toward the exit of the mammoth building.

She would be back there tomorrow.

&*&*&

Toby was sick of everything. He could not go to class without verbal fights and hexing breaking out around him. The school seemed to be evenly divided into pro or con camps with him being the contested piece of property. Toby just wished things would return to normal. He never got to spend time with his friends without some interfering older students flanking him. Of course, the older students had saved his skin several times, but still, how was he to practice flying without the whole school knowing that he was considering trying out for the Slytherin Quidditch team next year? He could not even go to the toilet alone.

He did have one thing to rejoice about in the whole mess. Rose and Robert Alston were going to stay with Professor Zabini forever. Their mum had signed some papers just yesterday and Owled them to his Head of House. Rose had told him just this morning, along with Victoire and Teddy of course. The four had skived off Herbology to celebrate in the Astronomy tower. Of course, Leech had followed them, and he had roundly scolded all the younger students before he sent them off to class, late, and without an excuse. Despite the little impromptu party, tonight, the four friends and Robert were invited to dine with Professor Zabini and his visiting wife. Toby was a little scared about that. He had seen barking mad people when his mum and Uncle Drake… no, his dad had worked in the kitchens at St. Catherine’s. Crazy people were frightening and dirty. He hoped that Professor Zabini’s wife was not like that. It would make him feel worse for Rose and her brother instead of better.

It was time for Potions, his second favourite class, so he packed his bag and made his way out of the library, followed, of course, by the newest addition to his security detail: a hulking, black-haired seventh-year girl called Magenta or some colour name. She was in Slytherin, and no one messed with her. Her aunt was in the MLE, and she had taught her all types of defensive spells before she ever entered Hogwarts. Toby nodded once to her as he met up with Rose and Victoire at the door to the Potions lab. The older girl muttered something about staying put after class, but Toby did not catch it. Oh, well, he shrugged, there would probably be someone else to escort him to his common room after class if the big girl could not make it.

&*&*&

Just as Liz made it to the Ministry’s visitors’ entrance, a young man with mousy-brown hair and a baby face snapped her photo. Liz stopped, put her hands on her hips, and glared at him. “Haven’t you lot made enough money out of me and my family? What can you want now?”

The young man had the sense to retreat a step as he stammered, “I… I… just wanted a word, Madam Malfoy.”

Liz could think of quite a few words that would fit the occasion but judiciously refrained from using them. She knew the value of having the press on their side, and this reporter had called her by her married name. He was the only one in the last fortnight to do so. Her tone was even and a tad less frosty as she enquired, “Your name?”

“I’m sorry. Dennis Creevey. I work for Witch Weekly.” He paused hopefully, but when Liz remained silent and severe, he continued. “I would like to get the whole story of your marriage and Mr. Malfoy's subsequent arrest from your perspective.”

“The whole story, huh?” Liz considered for a moment, not quite trusting the open-faced blandness of the man. “Okay, but not tonight, or I’ll be late. I’ll meet you tomorrow morning at Paddington Station. There’s a little coffee shop. I can’t remember the name. Meet me there.”

“I was hoping I could speak with you tonight,” Creevey insisted, as a little crease formed between his eyes.

Liz shook her head. “No, I’m staying at a Secret Kept house, so I have to make my train or I won’t be able to get home.”

The reporter frowned, his face falling into more mature and careworn lines. “It’s been that bad, that Malfoy had to use one of the Order’s tricks?”

“I really don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m not a witch, you know. Please excuse me now; I have to make my train.” Liz pulled away from the young man, noting the thoughtful way he stroked the strap of his camera.

“Tomorrow, then,” he shouted after her. “What time?”

Liz made her way out through the glass door, keeping it open with her knitting bag encumbered hand as she answered, “Be there at seven. I’ll be along around that time.”

&*&*&

Madam Zabini was nothing like the people Father Cavanaugh helped at his soup kitchen. She was pretty, clean and soft-spoken but with a little edge of something hard upon introduction of the two Gryffindors. Professor Zabini greeted her with a shy and happy expression as she demanded a kiss. His Head of House leant over, asking her something inaudible as he bent to her cheek. She blushed and answered with a yes.

Teddy, Victoire and Toby hung back as the Alston twins were introduced to her. For a wild moment, Toby had an image of the two children paying homage to Snow White, or the Queen Maeve of Faery; Mrs Zabini was that pretty. Madam Zabini beamed at Rose and Robert and held her hands out as she said in a girlishly breathless voice, “You are the start of our family.”

She placed her hands on her drum-tight belly. “Here is our next son or daughter. My husband tells me it is most assuredly not a polliwog, but probably brown, nonetheless.”

The children had been informed of Mrs Zabini’s odd thoughts on the child she carried, so none of them reacted to the comment.

The group spent a few more moments in the room with the couple, milling about uncomfortably while they tried to make small talk with two adults, never an easy proposition for children. Toby looked around with disinterest until a small rosewood shrine caught his attention. He moved toward it, trying to be unobtrusive. Professor Zabini caught up with him as the other children gathered around his wife to hear her stories of their travels around the world. His Professor asked, “It’s a shrine to the Buddha; would you like to see it?”

“I’m sorry sir; I didn’t mean to pry…” Toby began, feeling as if he had been caught looking in the girl’s shower or through his mum's diary.

His Professor smiled the kind of smile that Harry Potter had given him at Yule, the one with the crinkles at the corners of his eyes. He moved to the shrine, and twitched the curtain aside, revealing the pretty little gods. “I know how curious I was about my Professors and how they lived. I remember how your father and I used to make up ways that our Head of House, Professor Snape, spent his time. None of the tales were as dashing as what he actually did, but we were curious.”

“Professor Snape, the Death… uh… dead Headmaster?” Toby asked. “Uncle… I mean, Dad said that Scorpi was related to him, somehow.”

“He did?” Professor Zabini’s hawk-gazed eyes focused on him uncomfortably. “Do you remember how they’re related?”

“No, but Father Cavanaugh might be able to tell you. I think they might be cousins or uncles or something.” Toby shrugged in apology. “Miss Tish, Scorpi’s mum, was Father Cavanaugh’s sister. It’s kind of strange to think of him having any family really.”

The One-Armed-Prof looked like he was going to whoop for a moment. Toby was a little frightened of him and wondered if Madam Zabini’s madness was catching. “Uh, Sir, can you tell me about the gods you worship?”

His Head of House turned back to the shrine and explained the differences between the way he looked at the figures and the way Toby prayed to the saints until the house elves brought the food. As they broke away from their conversation, Toby said, “I never thanked you for taking my letter to Father Cavanaugh. It was really nice of you, Sir.”

Professor Zabini ruffled Toby’s hair affectionately. “It was nothing, Mr.Cowell.”

&*&*&

Draco woke once more from his boredom-enforced stupor to a gravel-voiced whisper. “Mr Malfoy.”

The sound came from the door, and Draco tensed, remembering the last visit by a guard, which had resulted in a shorn head and a few bruised ribs. He heaved himself to a slouching sit. Guards who used his last name without ‘prisoner’ in front of it deserved at least a modicum of respect. Draco, still feeling strangely feverish, stifled a shiver. The voice sounded again, this time louder and more distinctly. “Mr Malfoy, I have some things from your wife, Mrs Malfoy.”

Draco stood, feeling a little less pitiful, but still wracked by the strange chills that had taken him earlier. This guard seemed less brutish and more educated than most of the vermin employed at the prison. “What is it?”

“Ooh, you don't look so good.” The guard pressed his beefy face to the bars. “Do you need a Healer?”

“No, I'm fine.” Draco had been ill when he began his prison term the last time. He was sure there was no problem but nerves. 

“Here.” The man smiled, a toothy, pity-filled grimace, as he handed a brown paper-wrapped parcel through the bars. “I think you should know that not everyone is happy about what's happened to you and yours.”

Draco clutched the parcel spasmodically, the rough, brown paper abrading his fingertips like sandpaper on wood. He asked guardedly, “What do you mean by that?”

“Well, those of us that are related to Muggles could be up on the same charges. The same way that bitch Umbridge did us during the war.” The guard scratched his cheek with a thick finger. “It just doesn't sit right with most of us, even if it is a Malfoy up on charges if you know what I mean.”

“Yes, I think I do.” Draco returned his attention to the package. He could almost smell Liz's musky, citrusy scent as he trundled it back to his cot. As an afterthought, he said, “Thank you.”

“It's no problem. And, uh, Mr Malfoy?” Draco looked up at the man's kind face. “Good luck.”

Draco opened the package with shaking hands and an aching heart. He pulled a small packet of letters out first, a thick bundle tied with green ribbon. Her scent drifted up to him, the one he had bought her on their truncated honeymoon in Venice. The sharp scent of her soap, her brand of Muggle shampoo and his brand of conditioner filled his senses next. He nearly laughed remembering the idiotic fight they had about her shampoo a few days before the publication of the Skeeter article. He had claimed her shampoo was not the right one for his hair as she had smeared it into her own. She had reacted saying her shampoo was just not posh enough for him. The argument had continued until Draco had pinned her to the wall with his soap-slick body, each of them easing into their apologies with drugging kisses and languid lovemaking. He opened the bottle, letting the light scent of orange and kiwi transport him to that moment, filling his mind with her soft gasps and low moans. She was so appreciative in her acceptance of his apology. 

He set the bottle aside. If he used it while he inhabited this bitter part of the world, he would go mad. 

&*&*&

Dinner was going well until Madam Zabini burst into tears. Professor Zabini tried to get her to stand, to remove her from the uncomfortable gawking of the children, but she refused. He pleaded, “Darling, please, you're going to alarm the children.”

“I'm no better than one,” she sobbed as she buried her face in his robes. She whispered into his ear and the dark man paled under his chocolate skin. 

It was then that Toby heard a trickle of fluid under the table. Had she had an accident just like little Scorpi? Victoire looked at him, her shock plain on her face. She stood, placing her hand on Professor Zabini's shoulder. “Sir, do we need to fetch Madam Hasselnuss? My Aunt Ginny did this just before she had little Lily.”

Victoire retreated a step as the older Slytherin nodded. He scooped his wife into his arms and said, as he swept from the room. “Inform Madam that we are on our way. The baby is coming early.”

His gaze swept the five students, frantic to be away, but still aware of his duties to them.

“All of you stay here until I get time to escort you to your dorms.” As he exited, he shouted, “And don't touch anything!”

Victoire went to the Floo and searched the mantle for the distinctive powder. It took a few moments, but once discovered, she fire-called the mediwitch. Rose was standing next to the chair, her mouth pulled into a tight frown. “You don't suppose he wants us to leave this, do you?”

“Ugh,” both Robert and Teddy exclaimed at the same moment. “I'm not touching that.”

Toby rolled his eyes and brandished his wand. “Have you been wizards long?”

He flicked his hand in the motion that Victoire and Rose had both shown him when he was struggling with the charm in class. “ _Evanesco!_ ”

The seat was clean, if not dry; that was a third-year charm. Both of the other boys glared at Toby before they all retreated to the itchy seats in the parlour. Rose blew her dark fringe out of her eyes. “I wish we had known we'd be stuck down here. I would have brought my books to study.”

The others groaned as Victoire said, “You're just like my Aunt Hermione.”

&*&*&

_Drake,_

_I'm not much for writing letters; I've never known anyone that lived far enough away for me to write them, so please forgive me if what I write doesn't sound right._

Draco's heart gave a queer lurch as he saw Liz's handwriting, the tight English, schoolgirl quality of it familiar and endearing. He ran the chapped ends of the fingers over the paper as if to get a physical sense of her. 

_I know you're probably telling yourself that you should have thought twice or maybe three times before you married me. I know you, Drake, you’re so much better at Catholic guilt than I am, so don't deny it. I just want to tell you that you had no choice. From the minute I saw you in that soup kitchen, I think I knew you were for me. I respected Tish and you too much to try anything then, but when I finally decided it was the right time, I tried very hard to let you notice me. I'm glad you did. I've never loved anyone before, so maybe this sounds strange, but I think we were meant to be together._

_I had a strange dream the other night. I haven't been sleeping well, just so you know. I haven't had your arms around me and your..._

The words were missing, and Draco knew they had been excised by the Prison Censors. He could just see their faces as they read Liz's East End version of dirty-talk, an odd combination of gutter language and Catholic prudery.

_In the dream, I was in Saint Catherine's garden walking with Tish. She was just as lovely as in life, but she had a special glow, one I hadn't noticed she had while she was alive. She looked happy. I told her about us, and she said she was happy. She told me she had a talk with your father about it, but thought he mightn't be in any condition to remember it when he came back. Then Tish and I talked about Scorpius and how he had grown; she's proud of her little boy. Finally, she said, “You and Draco were made for each other, Liz. I'm happy you've finally discovered that.”_

Draco blinked away the rough feeling of unshed tears as he noted the dried tear stains marring the ink and the paper.

_I woke then, because Scorpius was calling for you. Drake, we both miss you so much. Please don't lose hope. I pray every night for your safe return, and I know God will let us be a family._

_I love you,_

_Liz_

Draco folded the letter carefully and tied it in the bundle of letters, which he held against his heart as twilight faded to night. He was a lucky man.


	24. Chapter 24

Hermione sat in the interview room, looking much healthier than she had the last two times she visited. Draco was unshackled and freshly scrubbed; a change for the better for him. She slid robes toward him across the table in the room. “Liz and Andromeda sent these for the trial. I don't suppose there's a place for you to change, is there?”

She looked pointedly at the Muggle-born guard, another sympathetic face who had escorted Draco to the room. The large man shook his head. “No, sorry, Ma'am, but I could let you step outside for the moment; would that do?”

“Thank you, that would be lovely. Would you care to join me?” Hermione dazzled the man with the same smile that had made Draco fall in love with her in his third year. The poor man hadn't a chance.

The guard escorted her from the room with an addled smile on his face, leaving Draco in possession of the bundle. Draco fingered the cloth nervously. He had not expected his trial to come so soon, but Granger had assured him that it was a good sign. Liz's interview with that Creevey fellow had caused a roar of public outrage against the Wizengamot's charges and had caused Shacklebolt to speak out publicly against that august body. Draco was sceptical that the Minister had been unaware, as he claimed to be, of the charges against the younger Malfoy, but accepted that the outcome of the trial might be much different than he had previously expected. Draco thought he might get off with a fine or probation, rather than a lengthy prison sentence. His Gryffindor counsel was more optimistic. 

Draco donned the pale grey robes, wishing once more for the long hair that befitted his rank. He ran his hands down the fine wool, an expense he and Liz could not afford, noting with some dismay the lax fit of the garment. He had lost weight after his initial bout of prison fever. He hoped Liz would not be too alarmed by his appearance today; an alarmed Liz was a dangerous one. 

The guard asked through the grate, “Mr Malfoy, are you dressed? Your solicitor says it's almost time for your Port Key.”

Draco cinched the belt provided up one notch and went to the door. “I'm as ready as I'll ever be.”

The guard gave his prisoner a sympathetic grin and wink through the grate as he unlocked the heavy door.

As he stepped out of the unlocked room, Draco noted the look of confidence on Hermione's face. His gut clenched spasmodically and Draco paused to catch his breath, he hoped he would not be her new S.P.E.W. The guard whispered, “Good luck, Mr Malfoy. I hope I don't see you here again.”

“You and me, both.” Draco clasped the man's hand briefly before he followed Granger to the authorised Portkey area.

&*&*&

Toby, Teddy, Rose and Victoire followed Professor Zabini into the Ministry of Magic building. Toby had never been here before and was intrigued by everything he witnessed. Teddy kept pulling on his robes as he lagged behind to watch the swooping of the memo-planes or look at the glowing golden fountain in the atrium that had been made to look like Headmaster Dumbledore and his Phoenix, Fawkes. Rose pulled on Toby's sleeve. “Come on, Tobe, keep up.”

“Yeah, I am,” Toby said irritably as he watched two memo-planes race each other.

Rose hissed, “No, you aren't. And the Prof is getting irritated. You know how he's been since his son was born.”

“Your ickle brother, Kieran.” Teddy scoffed softly.

Rose jerked her head angrily and caught up with the Professor and Victoire. Toby elbowed his friend in the side. “Why do you have to tease her like that? You know how she feels about what her mother did to her.”

“'Cause she should be happy.” Teddy's voice was pitched low so that only Toby could hear it. “Now she's got two parents who love her and two brothers. It's more than I'll ever have.”

Toby did not know what to say, so he turned his attention back to the wonders contained in the Ministry. It seemed like life was not fair to anyone at one point or another.

&*&*&

Harry Potter and his partner Seamus Finnegan escorted Liz, Scorpius, Father Cavanaugh, Andromeda Tonks and Bertie Cowell to the Ministry. Andromeda was the first assaulted by the barrage of reporters who jostled her and Bertie with some intensity until the priest swung his body between the two older women and the pushing masses. Impertinent questions were asked about Ian's relationship to the two women until Harry Potter intervened after securing Scorpius and Liz in the building. Ian pulled the two older women into the building as Harry threatened to take all of the reporters into custody for rioting. 

A frazzled-looking Ian caught up with Liz. “I've never been through anything like this, even when I had my audience with the Pope.”

“I never knew you met His Holiness,” Bertie exclaimed in awe, drawing the stares of several low-level employees and an older witch with a vulture hat and a bright red purse. While Ian spoke with Liz's mother about his brush with greatness, Liz fussed with Scorpius who had begun crying. 

She drew the toddler closer to her body, patting him back soothingly when she saw a flash of pale blond hair. It felt like her heart was going to beat out of her chest or come up her throat. She started to call Drake's name but stopped when she realised the blond was a shade darker and much too long, according to what Hermione had said about her husband's new hairstyle. Liz felt like joining her newest son in his tears. Harry drew abreast of her. “The trial begins at ten. We have an hour. Do you want to get a cuppa or just go down to the courtroom?”

Scorpius was now taking Liz's blouse between his fingers and rubbing the silky fabric against his cheek, something he did when he was nervous. Tears still stained his chubby face but no longer flowed from his eyes. Liz drew his hand down from her blouse and kissed each of his fingertips. To Potter, she said, “I just want to get this over with.”

“Yeah.” Harry took her by the elbow and led the group toward the lift. They all barely fit. Liz watched dully as the lift went down to Level 10. Harry took Liz's hand in his. “You can't go in yet, but his trial will be in Courtroom Seven. Just wait here.”

Potter turned to walk away, pausing to say over his shoulder, “Oh, and good luck.”

Harry's partner followed without a word.

&*&*&

The lovely Mona Lisa had roused Lucius from his bed in the infirmary. She held off-the-rack robes out to him and had a bamboo cane tucked under her arm. “Your son's trial is today, Mr Malfoy. As your physician, I'll be in your contingent of escorts to the Ministry.”

Lucius took the robes from her hand and nodded sharply. It had been years since he had been able to wear anything but prison-stripes. He grunted, “Did you buy these?”

“Yes. I know you're used to better, but my budget isn't up to Malfoy standards.” She expected him to be ungrateful, and that caused him to pause before her.

He ran his hands over the cloth, which was soft in comparison to the sackcloth he wore. She had chosen a deep blue, no doubt to compliment his eyes. “They are lovely. Thank you.”

“I do wish they could be better.” Her pale brown eyes sought his and he moved toward her, wanting to taste her lips to see if the cinnamon colour of them would leave the taste on his tongue. Lucius felt drawn to her and as he leant in to test his theory, another inmate coughed, shattering the moment. 

She stepped back, breathless from the near contact, and then looked around before she whispered, “Mrs Granger-Weasley tells me to make sure you answer every question truthfully. She says much is riding on your testimony.”

He dreaded the questions that might be asked of him and what his answers might mean for his own safety and, damnably, Narcissa's. Mona Lisa shook her head. “In words, Mr Malfoy. You need to practice.”

“Thank you, Doctor. I have been p-practicing.” Lucius graced her with his patented superior smirk. He had sounded like a lunatic over the past few weeks, saying the nonsense sounds she had told him to speak, aloud and over the rather crude complaints of the other inmates in the infirmary. He inclined his head and lifted a blond brow just a fraction. “Can I expect your... assistance with my disrobing, Mona Lisa?”

A gratifying flush heated her face and she hurriedly exited the area. After she was safely on the other side of the curtain, she huffed, “Oh, do hurry.”

Lucius laughed as he shucked off the prison infirmary uniform. In his silkiest of tones, he growled, “I should think I would never want to hurry with you, my dear.”

&*&*&

Two hyper-vigilant Aurors led Draco into the courtroom. Draco might have found their extreme dedication amusing if the situation were slightly different. He was placed into the same type of chain-covered chair he had been in eleven years before. The same weight chains were placed on his wrists, arms and legs that had magically bound him in his first trial. Draco felt a bubble of hysteria rise as the courtroom began filling with members of the press and other noteworthy busybodies. 

Draco moved his head slightly to see if Skeeter had deigned to attend the trial her work had precipitated. She was nowhere in the gallery within his limited range of vision, but it did not mean that her poisoned words would not find a way to cause his family more pain. He became aware of his fists, clenched against the rough wood of the chair, and willed them open. It would not do for the Malfoy heir to give an outward show of the strain under which he toiled. He was aware that he must show the Wizengamot that they dealt with an adult wizard, not the pitiful little boy they had in their purview the first time round.

One by one, as the gallery filled up, the members of the court turned their faces toward Draco. Most of their expressions were neutral; some of the members with a more traditional outlook bore mixed expressions of distaste and approval. The majority of the Order members had the same mixed emotions with approval being more to the fore. Yes, being a Malfoy would be a distinct disadvantage once more. The Minister of Magic's seat was vacant as the proceedings began. Draco thought that Shacklebolt's absence boded ill for his cause. 

A grizzled witch with bright yellow eyes and ancient jowly face began. “Draco Eugene Malfoy, you stand accused of crimes against the wizarding and Muggle world. The court has deemed that there is sufficient evidence to bind you for trial and find you guilty of coercion of a Muggle by use of magic, four separate instances of breaking the International Statute of Secrecy and use of an Unforgivable in two instances. What say you to the charges enumerated?”

Draco drew a steady breath before answering in the firmest voice he could muster, “Not guilty on all charges, Madam.”

“Madam Fahrquadt, members of the Wizengamot,” Hermione began, her voice steady as hushed whispers circled both the gallery. “My client's wand has been tested by the Auror's office by none other than the head of the division, Auror Fenway. It is my understanding that the Use of Unforgivables charge was supposed to be dropped.”

The yellow-eyed witch answered in a sonorous tone, “New evidence has come to light...”

“Of which I, as Mr Malfoy's counsel, was not made aware,” Hermione snapped, “I respectfully request a recess to review this evidence...”

“No,” Madam Fahrquadt denied.

“Madam, evidentiary procedures allow the defendant's counsel to view all evidence pertaining to the...”

“You have had access to the witness list. It is your job to come prepared to court. You may cross the witness when she is called.” Several members of the court shot the acting Chief dark looks. Apparently, Draco thought, the court's opinion had not been entirely decided on his guilt. 

&*&*&

Liz spent the first hour of the trial outside the courtroom. Toby and his friends surrounded her, along with Professor Zabini. She greeted the older wizard with a wan smile. “I hear your wife had a son. Congratulations.”

“Mum, we got to help choose his name, since we were there when she started having him,” Toby said as he leant into her side, a mere whisper of a touch before he recovered his nearly twelve-year-old insouciance. 

“That was very brave of you, Professor.” Liz's dry tone provoked a sheepish smile from the wizard.

“It was entirely Pansy's idea.” Zabini sat next to Liz, his warm eyes twinkling. “She was quite impressed with their choice.”

“What did you decide?” Liz turned to her son.

“It was Rose's idea, really. She should tell you.” Toby indicated a blushing brunette with becoming freckles. Liz had heard of her, of course, but the warmth of her son's regard for her was a little worrying. 

“We all decided on Kieran Dunn,” Rose answered tartly. “I just looked up the names in the library.”

“Yeah, but tell Mum what it means,” Toby insisted.

A man in Auror's robes interrupted the conversation. “Mrs Malfoy, you're being called as a witness. If you will please follow me...

&*&*&

**_Malfoy Trial Enters Its Second Week with No Verdict_ ** __

_Dennis Creevey, WPI_

_In an unprecedented move, current Minister of Magic, Kingsley Shacklebolt, has stepped down as acting Head of the Wizengamot to testify on behalf of the Malfoy Clan in the now fortnight-long trial. Shacklebolt, it is rumoured, as Head of the now defunct Order of the Phoenix, was left out of the loop by a dying Albus Dumbledore in regard to the roles of both Lucius Malfoy and Severus Snape in protecting the innocents stolen from their homes in acts of violence that the Death Eaters called 'Muggle-baiting.'_

_The main question of Malfoy's innocence of the charges levelled against him has been a matter of some public concern. If the younger Malfoy is convicted, it could indeed set the clock back on the entire wizarding world's relationship to Muggleborns and so-called half-blood._

_In a stunning testimony on Friday, the Muggle, Father Ian Cavanaugh, outlined his long-term knowledge of the wizarding world, beginning with his family ties to Severus Snape, and ending with his aid to several Death Eaters, including Draco Malfoy and the notorious Carrow siblings. Cavanaugh's sister, Leticia, died of complications caused from the Cruciatus Curse five years ago. She is the mother of the younger Malfoy's son..._

_**Malfoy Elders Granted New Hearing** _

_Dennis Creevey, WPI_

_After the Wizengamot heard testimony from convicted Death Eater, Lucius Malfoy, concerning his son’s innocence, Minister of Magic, Kingsley Shacklebolt, granted him and his former wife, Narcissa Black, a new trial before the Wizengamot. Lucius Malfoy, former member of the Board of Governors of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry and confirmed member of the Order of the Phoenix, refused to testify until his former wife and his son were granted extra security while they are housed in Azkaban Prison..._

_Malfoy's testimony concerned the documents introduced by Madam Granger-Weasley, solicitor and holder of the Order of Merlin, First-Class. The documents clearly stated that Draco Malfoy would be granted immunity after his forced service to the self-styled Lord Voldemort. Lucius Malfoy, in return, gathered intelligence and offered aid to victims of Muggle-baiting. The documents were lost after Severus Snape's planned defection and Draco Malfoy served a six-year sentence for use of an Unforgivable in the commission of...._

_...Narcissa Malfoy made a tearful plea from the stand to both the elder and younger Malfoy men, to accept that her mental instability led to her decision to divorce Lucius Malfoy after thirty-four years of marriage and to relate false information to Rita Skeeter, former reporter for the Daily Prophet. Skeeter has been missing since..._

_**Skeeter Accused of Coercion and Malfeasance** _

_Dennis Creevey, WPI_

_Rita Skeeter, unregistered Animagus, has been accused of coercion and professional malfeasance. Skeeter is rumoured to have fled the country after receiving a summons to Draco Malfoy's trial..._

_In a stunning reversal of testimony, Healer for St. Mungo's Hospital, Parvati Patil, stated that Skeeter coerced her into relating false testimony about Draco Malfoy and her possibly improper relationship to her former patient. Healer Patil stated that Skeeter threatened to reveal her brief affair with Malfoy to her current fiancé, Justin Fitch-Fletchley unless Healer Patil made public accusations against Malfoy's character. Healer Patil's privileges have been suspended at St. Mungo's pending further investigation of her actions with Malfoy._

_In another reversal, Healer Patil stated that Leticia Cavanaugh, mother to Scorpius Malfoy, died of complications to the Cruciatus Curse, inflicted by Bellatrix Lestrange. The tearful Healer admitted that she was coerced to relate false information to Skeeter to cover her examination of the Muggle during the initial phases of her illness..._

_**Severus Snape Alive and Living in the United States** _

_Dennis Creevey, WPI_

_The court was shocked to silence as Professor Blaise Zabini introduced Penseived testimony from former Hogwarts Headmaster, Severus Snape, who is now living in an undisclosed location in the United States..._

_Draco Malfoy, his wife, Elspeth Malfoy and Lucius Malfoy were all moved to tears as Snape's testimony was displayed for the entire court. Severus Snape, looking tanned and healthy, gave information pertaining to his relationship to Ian Cavanaugh, Muggle Priest and mentor to Draco Malfoy, and his knowledge of the victims of Muggle-baiting, notably the rape of Elspeth Cowell-Malfoy at the hands of Rodolphus Lestrange..._

_Harry Potter was asked to comment on the re-emergence of the former Headmaster but tearfully declined comment. Harry Potter gave testimony for Snape in his trial after the war. At the time, there was speculation about the nature of the relationship between the Boy-Who-Lived and the former Headmaster..._

&*&*&

Lucius paced the small, private cell he had been given since his testimony on his son's behalf a little over a week ago. He had received at least a death threat a day since then. He looked out the tiny, barred window of the space, revelling in the play of evening light on the rough water of the North Seas. He wondered at the changes wrought by one determined Gryffindor and an unschooled Muggle from the poorest section of London. 

If anyone had told him ten years ago that he would approve of such an inappropriate mate for his son, they might have been subjected to Lucius' worst Cruciatus curse. However, the little Muggle, with the tenacity of a Niffler in a jewellery store, had made an impression on Lucius. She had attended every day of the trial, and dealt with the press in regal forbearance and grace. Lucius' grudging approval was hard won, but once granted, was forever. 

He paced once more from the back of the cell to the front, padding carefully around the new bedding that Ian Cavanaugh's mission had provided the prison. Lucius grimaced as he came to the ironbound door as he felt parchment crinkle at his waist. He fished the letter, written in Narcissa's familiar hand, out of his waistband, scowling at the missive. 

He had read it through once and really could not fathom why he held on to it still. Narcissa was asking for a second chance, but when Lucius attempted to picture his cool patrician wife, all he saw were black eyes and cinnamon-tinted lips. 

Damn. Lucius was attracted to a mere girl, one who was his son's age. He would not bear the stigma of the cliché that his life had become. Once he was freed from his incarceration, he would flee England and his past. He would not be ridiculed.

He turned the parchment over in his hands and tore it into small pieces. Narcissa could go hang for all he was concerned.


	25. Chapter 25

It had been three weeks since Draco’s trial and the various newspapers and periodicals had yet to tire of his family's story. Draco stared at the picture of Liz and him on the cover of the new magazine, _Mixed Match: the Journal for Blended Magical Families_. A photographer had snapped the picture just at the moment they were reunited. Liz's face was pale and drawn until his hands touched hers and then it was as if colour had somehow been inked into a drawing. The image of her joy was breathtaking. He rubbed his eyes with his thumb and forefinger. They had both shed enough tears to last a lifetime. It would not do for her to see him near tears at the breakfast table of his aunt's house. 

They had lost their flat, and even though both their sets of wages had been backdated to before Draco's arrest, they just did not have enough money to find a flat of their own yet. Andromeda had been kind enough to allow them to stay with her while they sorted everything out, but Draco knew they were a burden to her. It had been three weeks since he had been released, and Draco reckoned it would be another fortnight before they could scrimp enough money together to move back to London. Their big Catholic wedding would have to wait for some time, maybe years.

However, there had been two good things that had come from the trial: his parents' new hearing, which was scheduled that week, and Snape's Pensieved testimony. Draco suspected, after some reflection, that Zabini had been in contact with the former Headmaster for some time. He remembered the allusions Blaise had made to a Potions Master he had corresponded to in the States. Snape had probably done it just to monitor what was happening at home. Zabini had been entirely too tight-lipped about Snape since then too. Draco snorted. Snape was a damned Slytherin to the end. 

Liz entered the room and slid her cool arms around him. “What's so funny?”

“Nothing.” Draco slid his hands up his wife's arms. 

“Mmmm,” Liz hummed softly against his cheek. “I like your hair. It suits you.”

Okay, make that three good things that had come from his stay in Azkaban, Draco thought as his wife kissed the stubble on his head. Liz seemed fascinated with the shape of his head and the feel of his scalp. Perhaps he would go Muggle and keep his hair short. Draco drew her palm to his lips. “I missed you.”

“Do you want to show me how much, again?” Liz purred as she moved her hand lower, making Draco gasp with the contact. “I'm up for it, and it looks like you are, too.”

“We have to get to the Ministry, Liz,” Draco warned half-heartedly. “Though, I suppose we could adjust our calendar for a little longer lunch than normal.”

Liz kissed his temple. “That sounds good.”

&*&*&

Lucius' hearing was first. He entered the room, expecting total vindication. He had served the Order, had been double-crossed by Dumbledore and ultimately paid more than his due for his crimes. He had not counted on his attempted strangulation of Narcissa being brought into evidence. He watched in quiet desperation as the Wizengamot deliberated on the matter. Draco and his wife were present, and Lucius was grateful for their support. The Mudblood Granger chit that had handled Draco's case - Lucius supposed he should begin to refer to her by name - represented Lucius. She shuffled the briefs she had prepared for his trial nervously. Lucius smirked at her nervousness, wondering whether she was more afraid of losing the case or his release. Big, bad, Death Eater Lucius Malfoy, might be cause for some concern... if he were still the person he had been when he had been convicted. 

Yes, Lucius was still a purist, but had he not accepted his half-blood grandchild and the marriage of his only son to a Muggle? He would simply work on reducing his more colourful language. He realised his use of the term Mudblood might be considered offensive in some circles. Well, most circles these days, he amended. Even Mona Lisa, a pureblood from an old family, had reacted negatively to his comments. Lucius sighed. Yes, he would make the necessary changes to live in this new world. 

Kingsley Shacklebolt spoke, his face stern. “Mr Malfoy, after due consideration of the facts provided by your counsel, we have found you not guilty of Death Eater activities in the second war.”

Lucius inclined his head graciously. He had suspected the outcome from the beginning. Shacklebolt had more to say. “However, we find you guilty of the attempted murder of Narcissa Black, formerly Malfoy. Your sentence, taking into account that you have served twelve years of a life sentence, shall be six months probation.”

Unexpected, but liveable, Lucius thought.

“You will serve this probation, without a wand, under the guidance of Father Ian Cavanaugh, as a gesture of good faith that your sentiments have truly changed.” The Wizengamot erupted in protestations of outrage. Muggle blood-cult and Statute of Secrecy were foremost in the shouts. Shacklebolt held up his hand in a quelling gesture. “Your lands and a portion of your assets will be returned.”

How could this have happened? Lucius' eyes sought the Granger girl's, and he noted the triumph in her gaze. This… outrage… was all her doing? One way or another, he would ensure she paid for this. Lucius lifted his chin in a gesture of regal defiance. “And... if I choose not to accept these... t-terms, Minister?”

“You will be released from Azkaban, wandless, and without any form of restitution.” Shacklebolt smiled wolfishly. “The choice is yours, Mr Malfoy.”

Lucius felt his nails dig into his clenched fist. Damn Narcissa. She had won again. The bitch. “Very well. D-do I need to sign anything?”

The Minister gave a toothy smile that brightened his dark face. Lucius was well and truly fucked.

&*&*&

It was Wednesday, and Liz was making her way, with Lucius Malfoy, to Hogwarts. They were taking the Hogwarts Express. He refused to speak to her, which was just fine with Liz. Drake had told her he probably blamed Muggles in general for the terms of his probation. Liz had laughed at that. As far as she was concerned, he should have been made free as soon as they found that paperwork Hermione had shown them. The trolley came round with sweets. Liz looked at her father-in-law who was looking broodingly out the window. “Do you want something?” 

Lucius sneered in her direction, posh bastard that he was. He then began twirling his cane between his feet. “If I wanted a… food, no, repast, I would have brought my own.”

“Fine.” Liz paid for a Pumpkin Pasty, one of the odd wizarding foods to which she had grown accustomed. The Chocolate Frogs put her off her appetite, so she skipped those in favour of the Bertie Bott’s beans. She had always liked jellybeans when she was a child; wizarding ones couldn't be that different, could they?

As she ate the pasty, she reflected on the reason for her visit. Professor Lepidus had contacted her about the situation at the school, which had remained unchanged even after the three Malfoys had been acquitted. Toby was still the object of hatred and had been in a scuffle in which he hexed an older student so badly that she had been sent to the Hospital Wing overnight. Liz would have a few choice words to say to her son about that, once she got to Hogwarts. The underlying reason for her trip made her hands shaky and her guts watery, as she thought about the talk she would be giving to the whole school. She was going to tell them about her rape. She was not going to give all the details but would tell just enough so that there would be no doubt about either her complicity in the matter or Toby's innocence. It made her angry that people were still blaming her son for something over which he had no control. 

Lucius had been waiting at the office for Drake on Friday when the Headmaster had arrived via the Floo Network. Once her father-in-law had found out what Lepidus wanted, he had verbally flayed the man in his cool, methodical and sneering way. Liz was afraid the Headmaster might run away. She took pity on him and stayed the elder Malfoy with her acceptance of the proposal. It was time she told her story to put halt to the rumours and innuendos that still surrounded her family.

Lucius had narrowed his eyes at her; he really was quite intimidating when he looked at a person a certain way. “Then, Madam, I shall accompany you.” Lucius regarded the Headmaster coolly; his pale eyebrow rose in a manner that Liz now referred to as his ‘forehead sneer.’ “Malfoys always protect their own.”

Liz finished the pasty and started on the sweets. Lucius smirked. “Has my son told you about those particular s-sweets?”

Liz popped a red one in her mouth. It was cinnamon, not her favourite, but still good. “No, Mr Malfoy, he hasn’t.”

“You are aware they are every taste?” he asked with that posh accent and more of a sneer than was strictly necessary. “Flavour.”

Liz popped a green candy in her mouth. It tasted strange, like grass, but was still nice. “I can read, Mr Malfoy.”

“You are aware there are laws in the wizarding world regarding false advertisement?” He was smiling wolfishly as Liz picked a brown candy, and bit into it. She spat it into her palm in disgust. The wizard continued, “When it says every flavour, it means just that, Madam. I believe it was a brown sweet I saw you choose. Was the flavour liver or… shit?”

“Liver,” she replied in some disgust. “Where can I get water to wash out my mouth?” Liz put the box aside, unwilling to tempt fate further. “Poo? Are you serious?”

Lucius merely smirked in his superior way and pointed to the door. “Since I am wandless at the moment, you will have to avail yourself of the facilities. D-down the hall, if you will.”

The rest of the way to Hogwarts was much the same as before, with Lucius’ concentration on the world that sped past. As they approached the station, Liz finally asked, “So, why did you want to come this way, instead of using the Floo Network?”

“Draco led me to believe you are weakened by Floo powder.” Lucius flicked an imaginary fleck of fuzz off his cloak. 

“I’m allergic.” Liz gave a little scoff. “It’s not a weakness.”

“Forgive me, if I misunderstood, Madam.” Lucius returned his gaze to the scenery, but continued in his bored drawl, “I was under the impression you sneeze and sometimes swell hideously. Is that not weakness?”

Liz bit her tongue to keep from snapping at him. She told herself he was just out of prison, not even a month, and that he needed time to adjust. However, a niggling voice in the back of her mind said that this was the real Lucius Malfoy.

&*&*&

Lucius enjoyed baiting his son’s Muggle wife. She was quite entertaining when raised to ire. As they pulled into the station, he stood a little unsteadily, his balance still not what it used to be. He held his arm out to her expectantly. “Madam?”

She scowled a kittenish look on her and proceeded to unfold from the chair without his assistance. She swooped ahead of him, an adequate impersonation of Snape, but without his distinctive flair. Lucius had always admired his dark friend’s way with a cloak. The Zabini boy, who looked rather haggard, met them on the platform. Draco did say something about his recent addition to the family.

Lucius stepped from the train onto the platform, feeling his cheaply-made robes with his fingers. He had lost so much since the end of the war, he supposed he would just have to get used to wearing utter crap along with all the rest of his losses. Zabini greeted Elspeth - Lucius refused to call her by that horrible appellation which his son found acceptable - then turned his attention to the elder Malfoy. “Sir.”

“Zabini.” Lucius inclined his head with the correct degree of polite deference, noting with some amusement the patient good humour on his daughter-in-law’s face. Lucius ventured, “I hear congratulations are in order. A son for you and Madam Zabini, is it?”

“And a daughter and another son. We‘ve taken over the care of two students also,” the black man answered ruefully. “I never knew parenthood would be so… tiring.”

Elspeth joined the younger wizard, “Toby told me that he and his friends got to choose your baby’s name.”

“Yes,” Zabini replied with a chuckle. “They named him Kieran Dunn. It means dark-haired brown one.”

“Apt, if a little plebeian,” was Lucius’ reply. “Next time it comes to something as important as a naming, I hope you will remember this little lesson.”

Elspeth’s tart rejoinder almost made break his superior façade with a smile. “I suppose next time the Professor won’t ask your opinion any more than he did this time.”

“Now, Blaise, tell me about what Toby did to the other little girl,” his daughter-in-law asked. Lucius walked a few paces behind the two younger people, taking in the sight of the newly restored Hogsmeade. He turned once, almost expecting Cissy to greet him joyfully as she had in their youth. He thought he had lost the habit of looking for his ex-wife. He expunged her ruthlessly from his mind, not wanting to remember how important she had made him feel when they were young. 

As the three passed the Shrieking Shack, Lucius stopped, clutching his cane with whitened knuckles. His only true friend had died there and had somehow been magically resurrected. Lucius yearned to hear Severus’ dry wit spurring him on to greater heights, but that era was over. Zabini and Elspeth paused for him to catch up to them. When he did, both of the younger people wisely ignored the wetness on his cheeks.

&*&*&

Toby knew his mum would be mad about him hurting the girl, but was not prepared for the list of things he could not do when he went home for the Easter holidays. He hung his head as she talked, wishing she was the type of mum who would let him explain before she spoke. He broke into her tirade, “But Mum, that girl hurt Teddy, and he’s in her own House.”

“There were no teachers around? Had they all gone for a holiday and left you in charge?” His mum’s face went red as she asked the question.

Toby stammered, “N-no, Mum.”

“You need to write a letter of confession to Father Cavanaugh before I leave here. I’ll write down the penance he wants you to do and send it by owl. And you will spend your Easter break serving food in the soup kitchen.” His mum seemed disappointed in him, so Toby hung his head, as if in shame, but he was proud of the way the spell had caused the girl to fall over. He’d use it again if she hurt one more of his friends. “I know you’re not sorry about this. But, Toby, you don’t want to turn into one of those men who bully women, do you?”

“No, Mum.” Toby hoped he wasn’t going to turn out like his real dad. He never wanted to hurt anyone just for fun like his real dad had. His cheeks reddened as he realised Uncle Drake’s father listened in on the conversation with something like approval. 

When his mum left to make arrangements for her speech, Toby turned to trudge back to his common room but was stopped by Mr Malfoy. “Boy, co-come here.”

The man was really scary, but Toby was taught to obey his elders. The man peered down at him and Toby chanced a glance at his face. He was smiling, his frosty eyes warmed by mirth. “Let that be your most important lesson as a Malfoy, young man… If you do something wrong, m-make sure you don’t get caught.”

Toby goggled at Mr Malfoy as the older man strode away; his cane a rhythmic beat between his footsteps.

&*&*&

Draco sat in his office, going over the weeks of paperwork that had piled up. He hated that he could not be with Liz when she needed him to be, but the office was just too far behind for him to attend her speech. He rubbed his hand over his face, his eyes blurry from the hours he had spent beating the case files into some manageable system. He paid no attention as the door to the front office opened. He was expecting a delivery of parchment. He said absently as he picked through one more file, “Just stack the boxes in the corner.”

“Dragon?” his mother asked in her best wheedling tone. “I was hoping we might have a word about your father and his delicate state of mind.


	26. 26

Lucius sat on the dais of the Great Hall, watching his daughter-in-law fidget through her introduction to the student body by the Headmaster. The elder Malfoy still did not like the idea of exposing a family member’s private life to further public scrutiny, but he did agree with the sentiment in which the endeavour was undertaken. 

As she began to speak, he sat up straighter in his chair, his cane between his knees, glaring at any student who so much as looked askance at her story. He was familiar with it. Elspeth’s story had been enacted with almost boring regularity during the war years. Her face had stood out from the legion because of the extremity of bravery she had shown. Lucius looked out on the student’s faces, wondering how many of the half-bloods and pure-bloods present had been the result of one of Rodolphus’ unsanctioned raids. Pure-blood families were traditionally closed-mouthed about violations of their female family members. When a pure-blood female was raped, unless she was inordinately young, she was married immediately to the most likely candidate. The rapist was dealt with summarily and with no mercy. The Ministry of Magic never became involved. Rodolphus’ acts had skirted the bounds of the Dark Lord’s mandates about Muggle-baiting, and overstepped them completely in the Lovegood girl’s case, as she was a pure-blood. Although most of the young Muggles had ended up dead, Lucius and Severus had ensured there were women left to tell the tales. Rodolphus’ proclivities had disgusted Lucius, especially as the victims became younger and the acts more brutal. 

A boy, Gryffindor and from a pure-blood family that had secretly funnelled funds into the Dark Lord’s coffers, sneered at Elspeth as she covered the worst of Rodolphus’ acts against her. Lucius levelled a dark look at him, enjoying the flush on the boy’s pale skin as the miscreant noticed Lucius’ attention. Elspeth paused, overcome by emotion as she spoke. Lucius had had enough. He stood, looming over the girl as he escorted her to a seat. He returned to the podium, letting his cool gaze hush the whispering mass of students. When he had their attention, he began.

“I had not intended to speak today on this matter… b-but as my daughter-in-law has shown such bravery, she puts me, Lucius Malfoy, to shame…”

Lucius catalogued the reason he decided to turn to the light, sparing no detail of the woman raped and ultimately killed by Fenrir Greyback.* He detailed Elspeth’s brief sojourn in the Manor, her bravery and her salvation at his hands and the hands of Severus Snape. He made certain, with carefully veiled threats, that the children who resulted from the rapes were under his protection and anyone found molesting them would most definitely be meeting Lucius Malfoy for a little _tete a tete_ if those children came to any harm. The room was silent as the fool Lepidus rushed forward to stop Lucius’ speech. Lucius merely smiled as the children filed out of the room. He had no doubt the attitudes would be changing posthaste. 

Elspeth remained silent about the matter until they made their way out of the Hogwarts grounds. The little hellcat then proceeded to shred him to pieces for his threats. He was going to enjoy being related to her, regardless of her bloodline. Elspeth would add years of enjoyment to his wasted life, and most definitely would give his son a run for his money.

&*&*&

His mother had been haranguing Draco for the best part of an hour about her concerns for her ex-husband when the Floo flared to life. The fire deposited a sneezing Liz and a vaguely concerned Lucius. Narcissa turned to the sounds emanating from the front room and let her cool features settle into haughty disdain as Lucius helped Liz to the water cooler in the corner of the room. Draco heard his father murmur, “Please, Elspeth, take the Muggle potions and have a seat. You seem to be quite weakened by the travel.”

“I told you, it’s not a weakness,” Liz replied through gritted teeth. “And don‘t call me Elspeth. M‘name‘s Liz.”

She sneezed once more, then rifled through her purse for the little pink pills that gave her relief from the itchy, watery eyes, and sneezing. Draco watched as his father’s raised brow relaxed. It was odd seeing his father care for Liz in more than a vague way. With a bemused half-smile, Draco turned his attention back to his mother. “I suppose I should introduce you.”

“No need, Dragon,” Narcissa drawled. “I know your father, and I am aware of the Muggles you have bedded.”

Draco ground his teeth. “Liz is my wife, mother, and as such, you will treat her with respect.”

“Oh, Dragon!” Narcissa whined in a falsely penitential tone. “I meant nothing by it. As your mother, it is hard for me to see you marry even a girl of the purest bloodlines and... you know.”

_One so far beneath you,_ Draco finished the rest of the sentence in his mind. He could feel the beginnings of a tension headache at the base of his skull, radiating from his shoulders and back.

Lucius had finished his ministrations to Liz and turned his attention to Draco’s office. Lucius gave a courtly bow to his ex-wife and a fleeting expression of pain was quickly masked with one of detached disdain. “Narcissa.”

Lucius looked as if he would say more, but settled for assuming the seat behind Liz’s desk, his cane between his legs as he moved the chair back and forth experimentally. 

Narcissa stood a gracefully executed movement that used to awe Draco and draw looks of desire from her husband. She moved to Liz, her hands extended in welcome. “You must be my new daughter-in-law. Liz, isn‘t it?”

Draco’s mother shot him a smug look of triumph as Liz answered, her nose still blocked from the allergies. “Nice to beet you.”

Liz sneezed once more and retreated to Draco’s office as Narcissa turned to Lucius. Draco flicked the door closed after he warned, “Father, Ian Cavanaugh has set your intake appointment for three. Try not to miss it.”

They sat in the office in silence as Draco’s parents raised their voices beyond the closed door. Liz shuffled her feet uncomfortably as Lucius’ shouted ‘Bitch!’ filled the office. Draco merely returned to his paperwork, his façade calm. It was as it had always been.

His mother’s wheedling tone cut like a diamond on glass as she pleaded for forgiveness. Draco rolled his shoulders, attempting to ease the tension that always built when they fought. 

There was a slapping sound and then the silence that had always followed it. Liz said, “Drake, maybe we ought to…”

“There’s nothing to do Liz. If I open the door, you’ll see them coming to an agreement.” Draco answered heavily.

Liz clambered to her feet, anxiety in every movement as she reached for the door. “Drake, he hit her.”

“No. He didn’t.” Draco stood, locking the door with a flick of his wrist and a muttered incantation. “She, however, did hit him. Father only hit mother once, and that was when she endangered our lives.”

“Then she…?”

“Struck him with great regularity,” Draco intoned. “Now, you know what my family is like.”

Liz sat back down, her hands in her lap. “I’m sorry.”

“They are what they are, Liz.” Draco turned his attention to the documents once more before asking, “Did you talk to Toby?”

“Yes. And I know you don’t approve, but I had him write a confession to Father Cavanaugh.” Liz drew the missive out of her pocket. 

Draco scowled. “Liz. He stood up to a bully who was attacking his friend. How is that wrong?”

“He hurt a girl. I don’t want him to…” Liz blinked. “Never mind.”

“No.” Draco shot his chair back, knocking a stack of parchment to the ground in his haste. “You don’t want him to what? Be his father? Be like I was once? Well, if you keep reminding him of how he was conceived, you’re condemning him to be just that. Children live up or down to what you expect, Liz.”

His wife pocketed the letter. “I read it, you know.”

“And?” Draco righted the spilt parchments with a flick of his wand.

Liz looked away from Draco’s cool gaze. “I think you’re right.”

“And you were…?” Draco felt his lips quirk into a tight smile. Liz never liked to admit she was wrong.

“Just shut it, Drake.” She sat down with an unpolished grace that was entirely her own. “I was wrong. I suppose I’ll have to write him an apology."

Draco grunted his assent as the door to the office flew open. A very dishevelled Narcissa stood in the entry. Her neck was marred with a love-bite and her cheeks appeared whisker burnt. “Your father and I have come to an agreement, Dragon.”

Lucius hung back, his hair mussed. Draco remained impassive. “And that would be, mother?”

“We have decided that we are through as a couple.” Narcissa raised her chin defiantly. “I shall cede all my Black holdings to you, including my dowry in return for the penthouse in New York and a generous annual stipend.”

Lucius strode into the room, letting his gaze fall in his ex-wife, an unshuttered expression of longing on his face. Draco lowered his eyes. “I am sorry, but I do understand. Father, it’s almost time for your appointment with Ian. Do you wish me to accompany you there?”

Lucius nodded a sharp gesture that spoke of his pain. Draco finally moved. “Mother, let me see you out. I suppose we’ll be seeing you at our wedding?”

“We’ll see what my schedule is. You know New York can be so entertaining at this time of year,” Narcissa tittered as her son offered his arm. “Perhaps your father will… well, we shall see, darling.”

&*&*&

Toby was sitting in the Great Hall at breakfast. Professor Lepidus had instituted a new policy and Toby liked it. Instead of sitting with his House for meals, he had to sit with all the other first and second-years. He now got a chance to review with Victoire and speak to Teddy first thing. The other tables were arranged by year also. The older students were the ones grumbling about how it broke with tradition, but the fights had stopped. Toby guessed if a person had to eat with his enemy, he soon learned to tolerate him. He ran his lips over his teeth. If only his mum could see what her talk had done.

The owls swooped down for their morning deliveries. Toby was surprised to see Uncle Drake’s tawny in the flight. It landed beside him and Toby fished an Owl Treat from his pocket as he grabbed the letter from the owl’s leg. “Thanks.”

The owl hooted softly and rubbed its downy head against his hand before it took the Treat. “I s’pose you’re waiting for a reply.”

The owl hooted again. “Well, you can go up to the Owlery. I’ll write later, okay?”

Yellow eyes blinked sleepily and then the owl was off. Rose stared at him from her side of the table. She asked, “What’s up, Tobe?”

“Dunno. I’ll read it later.” Toby stood up from the table, leaving his plate mostly full. “I’ve gotta do some research before my first class.”

He told himself that he was not angry with his mum, but that was a lie. She hadn’t even listened to him before she jumped on him like he was Scorpi‘s age or something. He hated that. As he made his way to the library, he opened the letter. It was probably just his penance or something.

It began:

_Dear son,_

_You know I don’t write too well, but what I have to say can’t be put off. I was wrong. I am sorry for not listening to you, and for reminding you about who was your father. He’s dead. I don’t know if I ever told you that before, but he is. I found out a year after you were born. Some of the women that I spent time with during the war let me know._

_I just realised recently that I’ve been blaming him for everything that happened to me since you were made. I had a lot to do with it, though. I was the one who decided to quit school. I was the one who let herself go, and I was the one who wore my rape as if it was a badge. I let my bad experiences colour my views of you too. You do look like him, but I was the one who let his looks get in the way of seeing my son. You are a good boy, Toby, and I am sorry that I failed you as a mother in this very important way. All I can ask is that you please forgive me._

_Draco told me that things were much worse when he was in school and I shouldn’t be so hard on you. I still say that violence isn’t the answer, but since your friend was being attacked, I suppose you had no choice. Next time, could you just think before you use that wand? Maybe if … well, never mind. I suppose I’ll need to trust your judgement._

_You are still my little man, and I will always love you._

_Mum_

_P.S._

_Drake and I have set the date of our wedding for June 12th. Drake wanted me to ask if you would stand up with him and be his best man. Let us know soon._

Toby penned his response and ran to the Owlery to send it off. He just barely made it to his first class. As he scooted into his seat beside Rose and Victoire, they smiled at him. He beamed back. Things were definitely going to get better now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> * The Greyback incident refers to events detailed in the story _Freedom._


	27. 27

**(Otherwise known as the Epilogue)**

Draco was very likely drunk. He really couldn't remember how many drinks he had that evening, but it being his bachelor party and all, his own personal rules of conduct had been relaxed somewhat. Potter stood in the corner of the pub on a raised platform, singing into a small microphone that was thankfully not turned on. Karaoke was not Draco's idea of entertainment. If he wanted to hear someone singing badly, he would just listen to his father when he took a shower in the morning. His head spun as Potter executed a daring and somewhat ridiculous dive off the stage. It would have been effective if anyone had paid attention and caught the Auror. 

"Fuck," Potter said from the floor in exaggerated consternation. 

Longbottom hit Draco's shoulder. Hard. Draco winced as the lout bellowed. "Harry shaid a bad word! Can't believe it. He'sh a Shaint. An angry one, but a shaint."

Longbottom let his face fall to the table as he was overcome by a fit of giggling. Draco merely sneered at the prat. Who was the addicted one here, anyway? Draco opened his eyes a little owlishly to find Blaise in the crowd. He waved the dark wizard over. Zabini, ever debonair and in control, tripped as he came to the table, spilling his drink over Longbottom's neck. Longbottom howled with laughter and said something incomprehensible in what Draco thought might be English. Potter joined the group, his face still red on one side from his impact with the floor.

Before Draco could say what he needed to say, Potter hugged him. "Ferret, you know, you're all right. I never thought I would EVER say that, but you are. Death Eater. Ferret. Friend. Slytherin."

Zabini cried, “Hear, hear." and downed what was left of his whiskey. No wizarding drinks tonight. The Muggle pub they were in, did not allow outside alcohol. Draco felt his lips pull into the sappy grimace that he always wore when inebriated. 

Potter leant closer to Draco and peered into his eyes. "You're pissed."

"You're King of Pissed, Potty." Blaise shouted then immediately straightened his Muggle togs and sat. "Sit down. They're looking. The Muggles."

Potter peered around the room one eye closed. "I'll 'bliviate them all."

Zabini pulled Potter down in the bench next to him. "Please, Saint Potty. You've never done anything even slightly shady."

"Have so. Haven't I Malfoy?" Potter's green eyes met Draco's grey. "In my sixth year, I used _Sectumsempra_ on our groom here, didn't I? Split him wide open."

Longbottom giggled and lifted his head. "No, you didn't."

Draco looked away. Trust Potter to bring up the bad old days tonight. "Drop it, Potter."

"No." The Auror hiccoughed. "I never 'pologised for that. I didn't mean to do it, but I hurt you. Felt bad for years about it." Potter's eyes glistened suspiciously, as he added morosely, "Still do."

"If we're going to start apologising for all our youthful transgressions, then I should tell you how much I wanted the Weaslette when I was in school." Blaise interrupted. "She was hot."

Potter choked on his drink, and then retorted, "Pansy got enough wanking action in Gryffindor, right Neville?"

The Herbology Professor snorted. "She surely did. Harry was head wanker of her club."

"That's disgusting." Draco rose. 

Blaise began, "Then you should know that Draco was King Wanker of the Granger cl..."

Draco shoved a hand over his friend's mouth. "Potter, Zabini, let sleeping dogs lie. Now, I've got to rise early tomorrow. I'm getting married. Can someone help me get home?"

He promptly sank to his knees. “Bloody hell, I hate Muggle grog.”

&*&*&

Liz spent the evening being fitted for her wedding gown for what seemed like the thousandth time. Molly Weasley, Ginny Potter, Hermione Weasley, Andromeda Tonks and Bertie Cowell all looked at her critically as she descended the stairs for hopefully the last time. Ginny had designed the dress and Molly had sewn it. As with the formal dress the two witches had made for her at Yule, the white wedding gown was perfect, except for the little problem that had cropped up around four months ago, after Draco had been released from prison.

Liz let her hand drift to the soft mound under her dress. She had not told Draco she was pregnant and had played off her weight gain as if she were eating more due to wedding jitters. The only person who suspected was her father-in-law who had stared at her midsection the entire afternoon after Mass last Sunday, his gaze frosty. Liz gave a small pat to her belly and said, "I suppose I'll have to eat less after the wedding. I don't want to get fat."

The other women exchanged looks. Molly Weasley finally said, "Dear, should you be dieting in your condition?"

"What condition?" Liz countered, innocently.

"Well, you're pregnant, aren't you? Bertie said..." Molly looked around for support.

Liz's answering smile was all the group of women needed to burst into tearful congratulatory hugs. Bertie stood back, beaming with pride at her daughter. Liz drew her mother to the group and Bertie sobbed. "I never could fool you, Mum." 

"Oi!" George Weasley yelled from the parlour where the Wizarding Wireless blared a Quidditch match. "There's a match going on in here. People are trying to listen."

Hermione extracted herself from the group and Liz heard a sharp smack and then good-natured bickering from both parties. 

&*&*&

Lucius had watched the evening's rehearsal for tomorrow’s wedding with mixed emotions. His only son was getting married and Lucius was gaining a family, a mixed family with its incumbent confusion and problems. He had noted the speculative way Bertie Cowell had looked at him throughout the fiasco that evening. Lucius repressed a shudder. Lucius had never tupped a Muggle and never would as far as he was concerned. He would let that be Draco’s kink, thank you very much. 

He watched the three boys, his two grandsons and Teddy Lupin, playing with the Muggle toy cars that Ian Cavanaugh had found for them from the lost and found box in the church. The older boys seemed to be treating Scorpius well, so Lucius had no reason to worry about childish tears and hurt feelings. He resumed his assigned reading for the day.

Father Cavanaugh would have made a wonderful Death Eater. Instead of administering _Crucio_ and _Imperius_ curses, he would have used the collected writings of Marcus Aurelius and St. Augustine to torture unsuspecting souls. Dante’s _Inferno_ could be used as the Catholic equivalent of the _Avada Kedavra_. 

Lucius turned his eyes to the text, a dry and ponderous volume of the Catholic propaganda _The Lives of Saints_. He wondered when the two older women would arrive to pick up Lupin and Cowell. He hoped soon, and that it was only the older Cowell woman. He did not relish a repeat of his first meeting with Andromeda Tonks. It had been almost thirty years since he had seen her. When they had met in the rectory before the rehearsal, Lucius knew she ached to curse him. Her hand had held a wand and he could feel the magical energy crackling around her like ozone. The only words she had spoken to him had been a warning. “Treat my grandson well Malfoy, or I will know about it.”

Lucius had graced her with a sickly smile in response but had given a dutiful bow. Ian Cavanaugh had rescued him from further embarrassment by escorting his former sister-in-law into the church proper and showing her the wonders of the Stations of the Cross and the one, tatty relic housed there. 

Lucius let his gaze fall once more to the soft waves of his grandson’s head. He was quite a handsome boy, as were all Malfoys, but with an exotic tilt to his eyes and a somewhat broader nose than his purely Patrician father. The boy’s green eyes sought his expectantly as he dropped the car he held and stood. “G-pa. Hold me.”

Lucius set his book aside, splaying it typeface down to hold his place. The boy raised his hands and Lucius scooped him in his arms, making sure to prop him in his good arm. The boy smelled of maple syrup and dirty little boy. “You will need a bath soon.”

“G-pa, where have you been since I was borned?” Lucius was saved an answer by a knock on the rectory door. He put the boy down with a pat on his chubby bottom and went to the entryway. 

Ian poked his head out of his study. “If it’s for me, send them in.”

Lucius resisted the urge to grind his teeth. Who else would be visiting at eight in the evening, but one of the masses of Muggle flesh that inhabited this level of hell? Besides the fact that Lucius was no longer sought out for his expertise, wealth or position, being a former inmate of Azkaban and all. He opened the door and was pleasantly surprised by the sight of Dr Patil. 

“Hallo,” she stated. “I was in the area, and thought I’d check on my star patient.”

Lucius paused, letting his gaze float down her body. She was wearing a soft, worn cotton sari of pale gold. Fascinating hints of flesh flashed at her waist and Lucius’ breath came in short huffs before he cleared his throat and his mind. “Please, do come in.”

&*&*&

The flat was empty and would be for the long lonely night. Draco had come to rely on Liz in ways he had not categorised until she was absent. Zabini, Potter and Longbottom made their drunken apologies at the door after giving the man of the hour a final send off gift of Hangover Cure. Draco palmed the bottle and went to his empty bed in his empty flat. Tomorrow, he would never be alone again. He would be married in the eyes of the Church and God. He chuckled. It would be just in time if he could judge by Liz’s recently increasing waistline. Draco decided he wanted a girl this time. It would be fun to spoil her to a properly rotten state. 

&*&*&

Narcissa slept fitfully at her latest lover’s side. She had paid well for him so he had no complaints whether he got a full night’s sleep or not. She woke, thinking of her only child and his impending nuptials. She wished him well from New York and then roused the boy in her bed for some much-needed recreation. As long as he did not speak, she could pretend he was someone more refined, handsome and fairer.

&*&*&

“You were in the area?” Lucius asked doubtfully. “I was under the impression you lived in S-surrey.”

Mona Lisa blushed. “I do some charity work in London. Three nights a week. I see patients who don’t qualify for National Healthcare. Mostly new immigrants and illegals.”

Lucius took Mona Lisa’s elbow and escorted her to the drawing room. The boys looked up from their play but turned away in disinterest. “I d-do believe this is the first time I’ve seen you out of your lab coat and scrubs. You look... lovely.”

The doctor blushed. “You seem to have settled into your new life well.”

“Yes.” Lucius grimaced. “Living as a native is... different. More complex than I‘d ever imagine. Making tea is...”

The doctor had moved closer and before Lucius knew it, she was kissing him. Her lips were soft against his. Lucius stayed his movements in shock until her tongue slipped lightly over his teeth and into his mouth. He suppressed a growl as he took her by the shoulders and deepened the contact. Before he could grind against her, she moved back. “I just wanted to congratulate you on your release. I’ll be going now.”

He did not dare stop her as she strode to the door and out of his life. He was tied to this hell dimension for another two months. She would find someone more suitable in that time to affix her considerable beauty and intelligence and Lucius would be just an older fool that she remembered fondly and hopefully with no regrets. He turned his attentions to the boys. “I believe it is time for young Master Scorpius to prepare for bed. You two behave.”

&*&*&

The wedding Mass was over and Draco was waltzing with his blushing and pregnant bride at the reception in the soup kitchen. She pouted prettily, “How long have you known, Drake?”

“Kid, we live together, did you honestly expect me to overlook your lack of certain... functions?” Draco held his wife closer. “I love you, but if we don’t have a girl this time, will you be up for another?”

“Drake, let’s get through this pregnancy first.” Liz laughed. “I love you too.”

The song ended and Liz blew her perfectly arranged fringe off her forehead, rustling the pink tea roses in the process. “I’m going to be so hot by the end of summer. Be a darling and fetch me a cold drink, would you?”

Draco made his way to the kitchen area, only feeling a hint of nostalgia at the sight of the polished stainless steel and pitted porcelain of the appliances. Since they had been given his mother’s holdings, Draco knew he need not ever return to the beginning of his odyssey, homeless, addicted and alone. He ran his hand over the railing of the serving line, a small smile playing about his lips. 

Ian joined him. “You’ve come along nicely, Draco. I am proud of you.”

“That’s good. I’m proud of me too.” Draco answered with a hint of laughter in his tone. “How is father getting on?”

Ian chuckled darkly. “I think your wife is waiting for her refreshment.”

“That bad, huh?” Draco gave his friend’s shoulder a squeeze. “Thank you for taking him.”

“Go.” The priest patted Draco’s hand. “She looks as if she’s going to expire on the spot.”

He was stopped next by a vaguely familiar face. A clean-cut young man in silver-rimmed spectacles approached him. He extended his hand and Draco took it. “Do I know you?”

“I’d say you do, mate.” The young man’s voice was soft, raspy. “I’m the one that got you hooked on the stuff.”

“Cred?” Draco felt a familiar hunger in his veins, faint but gnawing. “What happened?”

“I go by my real name now. I’m Collin. Collin Paisley.” The man was blushing profusely. “As for what happened to me... It was you, man. I saw how you were cleaned up and it gave me some hope. I’m now a drug counsellor at an NHS funded rehab. Ian told me you were getting married and I decided to crash it. I‘ve got a little girl now and my wife is over there with that tall blonde man. I think that‘s your father?”

Draco drew the man to him, and he croaked out. “Congratulations.”

“Let me go, man... I think your old man’s making a move on my girl.” Collin, formerly Cred, gave Draco a final thump on the back. “You did good, kid.”

&*&*&

Things had gone full circle for Liz and for Drake. She was donning her final outfit for the day, a light dress, full at the waist. They were going off for a month to see the rest of Italy and take care of the now restored property at the _Piazza San Marco_. Liz was looking forward to it. This would be her first real holiday in her life. Her mum was going to stay with Andromeda while Drake’s architect finished her cottage. Liz loved being rich. Really loved it. 

Drake kissed her neck. “It’s time for us to to go.”

“Not if you keep doing that.” Liz huffed. “And in church, no less.”

“We’re married.” Draco continued his exploration of her skin. “Mmm... you taste good. Uh, Liz?”

“Yeah?” Liz could feel the whisper of his breath on her neck hairs. The sensation sent dreamy swirls of gooseflesh down her back and shoulders. 

“Potter found out something else about Snape,” Drake said. “He thinks he’s in the States, in the Middle West.”

The Dark Man, one of her saviours and her husband’s newest project. “What will you do when you find him?”

“I don’t know. Potter wants to talk to him.” Drake ran his hand up his wife’s dress, fondling her belly. “I just want to make sure he’s happy.”

“You both need to do that then.” Liz turned and drew her husband’s face to hers. “I never thought I’d marry one of you... after... but I’m glad it all happened. If it hadn’t been for that week, we never would have met and I would never have found the other piece of my soul.”

Drake kissed her. They were late leaving the dressing room, but they had all the time in the world.

_FIN_

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading. Please take the time to let me know what you think.


End file.
